#Droid Control Computer

[sw5w]

The Core Explodes

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:03:28

[saphronethaleph]

Skydancer

“Well… darn,” Leia said, with feeling.

Apparently she’d picked entirely the wrong time to look in on the rebels in the Dennogra system. The Imperials had somehow got wind of the presence of the base, a sting operation had gone into play – while she was there, no less – and a Star Destroyer and an Interdictor were hanging overhead, TIE fighters flying cover over the base while stormtroopers closed in.

Her transport was already disabled, burned out by the first wave of fighters, and the local Rebel net had gone silent thirty seconds ago with the last report being that Base Orenth and Base Trill had both been neutralized.

Leia reached for her hold-out pistol.

She had a choice coming up, soon. She’d either be surrendering herself into Imperial custody, hoping for the means to make an escape attempt, or she’d be selling her life dearly.

And…

...she couldn’t see herself surrendering to Imperial custody. They knew she was a Rebel, now. Tarkin might be dead, but she had no reason to expect that any Imperial captors would be even as merciful as him.

Her fingers slid over the grip of the blaster as she moved from cover to cover, ears alert for any sign of the Stormtroopers closing the net, then paused as she spotted something.

There was an A-Wing fighter left in the hanger.

Leia frowned, trying to remember what she knew about the A-Wing.

It was… shielded, she knew that much, and it was fast and agile. And it didn’t rely on an Astromech droid to make hyperspace jumps.

That was it, then. That was how she could get out of this.

She just needed to handle enough fighters to get clear, and then the Interdictor – either escaping it by flying out of its range, or disabling it.

The A-Wing had concussion missile launchers, didn’t it? And the shields on an Imperial cruiser or destroyer were…

Leia thought about that a moment longer, checking in all directions, then made up her mind and ran for the fighter.

“Hey – stop!” a voice shouted, and Leia whirled. Without stopping, she snapped off two blasts, and one stormtrooper fell with a smoking hole in his breastplate.

The other ducked into cover, then returned fire, and Leia paused by the front leg of the A-Wing before firing twice more. That left her only two shots left in the small energy cell, but the shot did down the other stormtrooper, and she hurried up the ladder into the cockpit before sealing the canopy and hitting the self-start button.

The fighter’s computer flashed an unhappy pattern of lights at her, and Leia bared her teeth.

“Come on, you bucket of bolts,” she muttered, stabbing at a few controls, then the status screen came up. She flicked the repulsors online, then the shields, and a moment later a blaster bolt peened off the shield and into the corner of the hangar.

Blasters came up next, and Leia twisted the yoke. It was intuitive and responsive, a sign of good design, and she walked her fire across a whole squad of stormtroopers.

Then she keyed the main engines, and the whole hangar behind her was fried as the powerful engines boosted her upwards.

Two patrolling TIEs immediately began closing in on her, the sensor screen pinging a warning, and Leia muttered a curse.

She wasn’t a pilot… but this was a very fast and very agile fighter.

And it wasn’t like anyone else was showing up to save her skin.

A twitch of the yoke, and she snap-rolled ninety degrees to starboard before spinning halfway around. The twin cannon spat fire, blowing one TIE to pieces and clipping the wing of the other, and the second one wobbled in an uncontrollable roll before managing to get some control of itself and come back around.

Another element of two TIEs was vectoring in, and Leia finished her spin before diving towards the ground. There were Imperial ground elements down there, still visible, and if the fighters were going to shoot at her she could at least decoy them to try and hit the ground forces – then a large Imperial walker was looming up before her, and Leia adjusted her angle a little to aim between the front and back legs.

Pulling back out again as soon as she shot between them, Leia glanced around to get a good handle on the situation, then yanked the yoke back and switched from engines to repulsors. That meant the big engines weren’t pushing her forwards any more, letting her make a tight turn, and she pulled the trigger twice about when she’d be lined up with the pursuing fighters.

Three more explosions lit the sky, followed by drifting clouds of smoke as bits of TIE fighter rained down, then Leia switched back to main engines and turned towards her next targets.

Even a novice like her could tell that she didn’t want to be surrounded by enemy fighters. So the only way out of this was going to be to make sure they didn’t – or couldn’t.

“We feared we’d lost you, Princess,” General Rieekan said, as Leia clambered down the side of the A-Wing she’d appropriated. “When we heard about the attack on the Dennogra base, we feared the worst.”

“I was all right,” Leia replied. “Fortunately I had an A-Wing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Wedge agreed, inspecting it. “That’s definitely an A-Wing.”

He frowned. “What actually happened, Princess? The report was that there was an Interdictor overhead… was that incorrect?”

“No, there was,” Leia agreed. “Along with a Star Destroyer. Like I said, I had an A-Wing. Whoever designed that fighter is a real expert, it can be flown as well as you please by even a novice.”

Wedge, Carlist Rieekan, and everyone else present not named Leia Organa exchanged confused looks.

“...no, it can’t,” Wedge said, slowly. “It’s a good bird, a bit lighter than I prefer, but it’s extremely temperamental… who else was flying with you? Did anyone else get out?”

“All the other fighters were taken out on the ground by the initial bombardment and fighter strike,” Leia replied. “The one I used happened to be deeper into the hanger and it survived.”

“You escaped by yourself?” Rieekan asked. “Princess, I’m… sorry for my tone of voice, but that’s impossible. Or it shouldn’t be possible. Those two capital ships carry nearly a hundred TIEs between them, and while some of those squadrons are bombers or boarding elements that’s still-”

He broke off, because Leia was counting under her breath.

“...that sounds about right,” she said. “Well, I counted about sixty, anyway, and maybe a dozen bombers.”

“I think we need to check the gun camera footage,” Wedge decided. “I want to see this.”

About an hour later, Leia was in the middle of catching up on important messages when Rieekan came into the meeting room she was using.

So did Wedge, and most of the other pilots on the cruiser.

“We’re not worthy,” Derek Klivian declared. “We’re not worthy! We’re not worthy!”

“Hobbie,” Wedge said, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to stop that?”

“Nope, sir!” Klivian replied.

“He’s got a point,” Rieekan said. “Princess, we’ve reviewed the gun camera footage. And then taken some anti-nausea medication.”

“Is there something wrong?” Leia asked.

“Well, you’re one of the best pilots in history,” Wedge replied. “None of my best pilots could do that. I’d have said even Luke couldn’t do that, but then Hobbie told a joke and we decided to actually do it.”

“Princess,” Rieekan went on. “I regret to inform you that a genetic test has revealed that you’re Luke Skywalker’s sister. We think you’re both the children of Anakin Skywalker, who went down in galactic history as the single most capable natural pilot ever recorded.”

“...though you might just earn the top spot, now,” Tycho added. “Seriously, that was at least fourteen consecutive chakra manoeuvres and you shot down at least two fighters per chakra manoeuvre. And I never knew the A-Wing could do half of the other things you made it do.”

Leia was still wrapping her head around Luke Skywalker’s sister.

“Ever considered being a pilot?” Wedge added. “I’d say we can give you lessons but that might not even be necessary…”

[chaos-chloe]

Drunk ban appeals?

Summary: drunk ban appeals, what more can I say

Tw: Established relationship, cursing, alcohol

“ALRIGHT CHAT, we are doing “drunk” ban appeal today!” Pezzy introduced “Imma sip on this thing, and when it gets racist or-uh there’s any bigotry or like anything that’s like messed up. Like stuff like that; I'll take a shot of this.” Pezzy informed chat

“We do have 55 ban appeals, we do have a lot of them.” He moaned out, “We are going to start at the oldest one because these people have been waiting forever.”

“OOoh a snitch, yeah no deny, bye bitch.” Pezzy said starting with a loser chat.

“OP-ew, why would you make that joke? Was he referencing something? I feel like this person would have told us what he was referencing?” “Yeah no, bye.” Pezzy denied 

“OOO guys we have a __ ban. No, why was this person banned?” Pezzy asked looking deeper into the situation 

“Uh, __ are you here in chat? Or are you home?” Pezzy asked while his eyes shuffled through chat.

Mod2: Mod comment?

Mod1:OO this guy, was weird in Droids

userhub-2:Pezzy look at older messages from him! Wth

Mod3: Oo YEAH, old messages weirdage

__users: YEAH NO KEEP HIM BANNED PLS

“Babe there you are, yeah no keep him ban-” “Check mod comment, okay.” Pezzy started reading older messenger

“EW WHY ARE SAYING THAT TO __! YEAH BYE NOOPE!” Pezzy denied

“Wait, that's a shot. Ugh okay” Pezzy poured and took the shot like a champion. 

“Thanks babe, by the way you didn't answer me, are you home?’ Pezzy repeated

__users: almost, grabbing a slushie and some more alcohol for ya why?

“Chat, stop chatting for a second. I'm trying to read- almost- oo thanks to whoever pinned it.” Pezzy expressed his appreciation .

“Wanna join me when you get home?” Pezzy asked “Girl why is it taking forever for you to respond?”

__users: Uhh yeah, sorry had to think if i worked tomorrow morning 

__users:BOY i had to check my schedule also i was paying for our shit!

mod5:Tell em

userchat:Ooo pezzy gonna be in trob

“Chat behaves, I'm joking around with her; she knows this.” Pezzy scolded 

“Now, Moving onto the next stupid person.”

When you arrive, the atmosphere is chaotic and hilarious. Pezzy is in front of a computer with a shot glass in one hand and a bottle of soju in the other, trying to pour another shot because of a ban appeal being racist. “You should see these __! Half of these chatters are begging to be unbanned for the most stupid reasons!”

You lean over the keyboard, trying to focus on the screen, but Pezzy’s giggles are contagious. “Look at this one! ‘I was just testing my spam skills for fun!’ Who even says that?” 

You both dissolve into laughter, occasionally spilling a drink as you read through the increasingly absurd excuses. “Oh, this one’s even better,” you say, barely able to control your giggles. “‘I didn’t mean to spam; I thought it was a secret squad ritual!’” 

As the night goes on, the two of you descend deeper into silliness, sharing stories of all the ridiculous bans you’ve handed out. You start creating outrageous appeals for jokes, filling the screen with wild tirades about cat photos and conspiracy theories. “To unban me is to embrace the feline overlords!” Pezzy declares dramatically.

“Mew-sic to my ears,” you chime in, and the two of you erupt in a fit of laughter again. 

Time slips away as the ban appeals become an excuse for a ridiculous comedy show. You can hardly remember who you banned, and the lines between valid appeals and imaginative tales blur delightfully. 

By the time you look at the clock, its way past midnight, and you both realize you’ve completely failed at the task. But neither of you cares; the joy of laughing together over silly nonsense is far more rewarding than any ban appeal process.

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Ursa is met with fierce opposition from Sabine over her plan. The Rite of Hearts challenge is revealed to the suitors. Ezra realizes how much danger he is in and begins to doubt himself.

Part 2 of 4

(Part 1 here)

Ursa Wren: She's a child. Kanan Jarrus: I believe you're underestimating the woman she's become. - Star Wars Rebels, Legacy of Mandalore

If you are a lover, you have to be a fighter. - Keanu Reeves

~ the call, part two ~

Hera Syndulla let out a huff of annoyance as she finished re-wiring a section of the Ghost's main control console. She had been noticing a certain amount of lag in the freighter's responsiveness to her steering in their last hit-and-run on an Imperial convoy. To a less capable pilot the delay would seem negligible, but Hera was no rookie - even a microscopic nanosecond's worth of lag could mean the difference between certain escape or being turned into floating scrap metal.

Rolling out from under the console, she paused to remove her safety googles and wipe the sweat from her brow. "Alright, Chop," she said. "Try the sequence again."

The astromech droid let out a surly beep of acknowledgment but did as he was told, his servo-arm slotting into one of the console's open ports to run a diagnostic. She couldn't blame him - they had been at it for hours now, performing maintenance all over the venerable freighter. It wasn't strictly necessary, but there were enough unknown variables that could spring up during combat against the Empire.

Ensuring that the Ghost stayed fully maintained at all times was a variable she could control, which is why she insisted upon performing it during any down time they could get.

"Chop?" asked Hera, wearily clambering onto the pilot seat to rest for a moment. "Can I get a diagnostic now?"

The astromech droid buzzed out some information. Hera frowned.

"I meant for the Ghost. I know you're tired. You've been complaining non-stop for the past several hours."

Chopper gave an annoyed squeal and then rattled off the correct information. She clicked on the main console's computer screen, confirming with her own eyes but as usual, Chopper's information was accurate. The lag had been fixed, and the Ghost was ready for action.

The veteran pilot slumped into her seat, wincing at tired muscles and aching joints that were making their presence known after hours stuck in the cramped workspace. At least, she could get some -

The main console chimed softly. A call was coming through on a private channel.

Hera stared at the beeping communicator and groaned. "Perfect timing," she muttered. "Sure, I'm already up."

Chopper queried a question at her in a series of beeps.

She growled at him. "Yes, you can leave to recharge now. Thanks for all the help."

The astromech droid wheeled himself out of the cockpit with an annoyingly cheerful buzz, leaving her to answer the message. Hera rubbed at her temples, trying to head off an impending headache.

Finally, she reached out with an exasperated sigh and let the call through.

"Hera," came a familiar voice. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

She straightened in her seat, surprise jolting through her. Flicking a few more switches, the holo-communicator flared to life revealing the hazy, blue tinged image of Ursa Wren, the matriarch of Clan Wren. The formidable woman was sitting upright in a chair, dressed in what appeared to be casual sleepwear.

Her headache instantly vanished. "Ursa," greeted Hera cautiously. The matriarch kept her affairs private, only reaching out to give updates on the Mandalorian war effort or exchanging intel with the Rebellion. But those conversations were always scheduled well-ahead of time since Ursa liked to keep to a strict schedule. Hera suspected the woman disliked surprises.

"What brings you at this late hour? I don't think we had any scheduled conferences for today."

Ursa shook her head. "We did not. I bring news regarding my daughter."

Hera's eyebrows shot up in concern. "Sabine? What's going on?"

There was the noise of rapidly approaching footsteps towards the cockpit -

Ezra burst inside, almost falling flat on his face, still dressed in his pajamas, hair slightly ruffled from sleep. "Sabine? Hera, did I hear that right?"

She snorted. Like a moth to a flame, Hera thought. The kid couldn't help himself when it came to the Mandalorian girl.

Then again, who was she to throw stones? Kanan was the exact same way with her. He just hid it better.

Ursa seemed unruffled by the young man's sudden appearance. In fact, Hera suspiciously noted via the subtle smile flitting across her face, the Wren matriarch seemed pleased at Ezra's intrusion.

It was as if Ursa wanted Ezra to be there.

Hera felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"That is correct, Jedi Bridger," Ursa continued calmly.

Hera watched Ezra's brows furrow together in worry. "Is she in trouble?" he asked Ursa.

"Of sorts."

"I'll go," he said immediately. Hera felt her mouth go slack at the speed in which Ezra made this decision. No hesitation, whatsoever.

He glanced at Hera, as if noticing her presence for the first time. "Hera, is the Phantom fueled up?"

"Yes," she said. "Hang on, Ezra - let's talk about this."

"No," he said firmly. "I'm going. Have the Countess patch into the Phantom's private channel and she can fill me in on the way to Krownest."

Hera raised an eyebrow at him. "You're giving me orders?"

That gave him pause, finally. "Hera . . . look, I'm sorry, but it's Sabine."

She just looked at him, dread and anxiety mixing into a heady concoction inside her chest. The boy had grown up on her.

When did that happen, she wondered. How much longer can I protect him from this galaxy?

Had that time already passed?

She reached out and gently gripped his wrist. "Ezra. You don't know what you're walking into."

The young Jedi gave her a small smile. "True. But I know who's in the middle of whatever mess this is. And she'll be needing me."

Hera huffed out a laugh. And, against her better judgment, she released her grip.

"Go save our girl," she said.

He nodded at her and walked out.

"Come back, safe" she said quietly to the empty cockpit.

"You have my word," came Ursa's voice, "that he will be returned to you, safe and sound. The boy will be under my protection."

Hera turned around to stare at the holo-image of the Wren matriarch. "I'll hold you to that, Countess," she replied softly. "Because that's two of my children that are now under your watch."

Ursa bristled at her words but said nothing. The woman owed the Ghost crew a debt for returning Sabine to her and she knew it. Sabine was back with her blood family, it was true, but both women knew where her heart truly belonged.

"If anything were to happen to either of them . . . " Hera did not finish the sentence.

The Countess cocked her head at the veteran pilot, her eyes intense. Hera held the intimidating gaze with her own.

After a few tense moments, Ursa let loose a grim smile. "From one mother to another," she replied. "You have my solemn vow. Both of them will be safe."

Hera held her stare for another second and then acknowledged with a nod. "Good. I'm assuming you have a plan to get Sabine and Ezra out of whatever mess is brewing for them."

"I do."

She leaned forward. "Tell me."

~ happy to see you ~

Three days later

Ezra had experienced plenty of bad days during his time travelling onboard the Ghost but being choked out by your best friend surely had to break into the top three or five if he could be bothered to make a list.

Thankfully, it wasn't the last day he would ever experience courtesy of the Krownest guards sent to wrangle Sabine off him. The latter now stood well outside of arm's reach of him, her hands placed in durasteel binders, flanked closely on either side by the same armed guards. The glare she was throwing his direction made Ezra feel unsteady and, not for the first time since he had arrived, he wondered if him being here was the correct move.

He risked a glance in her direction, silently pleading through his look: Please tell me that I'm doing the right thing here, Sabine. Please.

Alas, the only thing he could read off Sabine's glare was a silent promise intending to do more bodily harm to him. He sighed, running a nervous hand through his short-cropped hair.

Great job, Ezra, he thought miserably. Your only friend here is pissed at you.

"Forgive my daughter's unseemly outburst," said Ursa, her tone indicating no sign of surprise at Sabine's actions. "Our newest candidate is someone she is intimately familiar with."

Sabine's eyes popped open at Ursa's words, her head snapping towards her mother. Ezra felt his cheeks about to burst into flame, and he immediately raised his hand out of an instinctive need to correct the matriarch's statement.

He felt the stares of the other candidates fall upon him, along with Ursa's. Raising an imperious eyebrow, she said in an amused tone, "There is no need to raise your hand here to say something, Jedi Bridger. This is not an Academy classroom."

There was a ripple of muted laughter from the clan heads. The suitors, notably, did not join in that laughter. Ezra didn't know if that was a good or bad sign that they were not laughing at him.

He shoved that observation aside for the moment. "Uh, yes. Sorry. Thank you. I just want to clarify that our relationship was - is - very much platonic."

Ursa leaned forward on her chair, resting her chin on clasped hands. "You did not live together for a number of years before she returned home to us?" she asked.

Ezra blinked. "Uh. Yes, that's - that's true. We did."

"Dine together? Fight alongside together?"

His cheeks were warming up again. Sabine's lips tightened into a thin white line, her own cheeks turning rosy. "Well, yes, but - "

"You did not sleep together?"

"In separate rooms!" Ezra blurted out. "We slept in separate rooms, on the same ship. Not the same thing. Plenty of space on the Ghost, no need to share bunks. Although there were a couple times when we got space mite infestations and I did have to share a room with Sabine - "

He let out a hysterical giggle, realizing what he was suddenly saying after those last words clicked. Thankfully, Sabine stepped in.

"Mother!" hissed Sabine. "Stop this, now."

Ursa acquiesced, leaning back into her throne, eyes shining with mirth and amusement. "I jest, of course. Something to break the tension," she said apologetically.

She waved at the other candidates. "If the other suitors are ready, you all may present yourselves now to my daughter."

Ezra braced himself. Right - the reason he was here. The other suitors, fellow challengers for Sabine's hand in marriage.

He didn't know how this would go. Or what he would do to protect Sabine. But he was also a Jedi - and Jedi only acted to defend, not to attack.

Mandalorians were very different from Jedi, as he knew. The preferred to shoot first, ask questions later.

I might not have a choice, he thought. There was too much riding on his actions in the next few days. Ursa was depending on him.

More importantly, Sabine was depending on him. Even if she didn't appreciate it at the moment.

And he refused to let her down.

But he was still a Jedi. He would avoid all harm to the other challengers, within the best of his ability to do so.

He was protecting someone he cared about. But he would also do whatever he could to protect these others, even if they meant him harm.

Do or do not. There is no try.

Ezra pursed his lips, fighting down a sense of unease boiling up within him. He felt out of depth once again, amongst all these Mandalorians and their complicated politics.

There was only one glowing mote of clarity for him throughout this mess. He turned to Sabine, his eyes finding hers.

"Sabine," he called out.

She just looked at him, the anger still glowing hotly like fresh embers in her brown eyes.

Ezra just gave her a small smile. "Happy to see you again," he said.

Sabine's eyes softened. And, for a brief moment, the ghost of a familiar smile appeared on her face.

(Pictured above: Despite the tense situation, Sabine cannot help but give a gentle, affectionate smile to her friend, Ezra, as thanks for showing up when she needed him.)

"Me too, goober," she replied affectionately.

Feeling emboldened by that smile, Ezra turned to face the other suitors with a cheerful expression - aware that most, if not all of them, were plotting how to kill him within the next few days.

~ the debut ~

Sabine tore her eyes away from Ezra's earnest smile and focused on the first clan to present themselves. Stepping forward, the clan head and their chosen candidate shed their fine shimmer-silk cloaks with heads held high.

Clan Eagan, she remembered. The current head was Markus Eagan, a towering, gaunt faced man with storm gray hair that matched the color of his eyes. His beskar armor was dyed in the traditional colors of his clan, an intimidating mix of slate gray and white. It was unnervingly close to Imperial coloring, Sabine observed, but she had heard that it was unwise to point that out near any Eagan present - they detested the Empire with a passion matched only by Clan Wren, often volunteering for missions deemed suicidal that presented any opportunity to hurt the Imperials.

Their daughter, the heiress to Clan Eagan, was a depressingly familiar face from her early days in Mandalorian training: Anessa, the heiress to her clan.

(Pictured above: Anessa Eagan, a rival to Sabine during her early years of Mandalorian training. She was the first suitor to declare herself a challenger for Sabine's hand in marriage.)

The young woman had grown even more beautiful since Sabine's younger days: the sharp edges of her features inherited from her father's genes being smoothed over with youth. But the most striking feature were Anessa's eyes; Sabine was still unnerved by the sight of them after all these years - they were like dark pools of water with only the occasional predatory gleam surfacing to let you know the direction of her thoughts.

Anessa caught Sabine's look and gave a mischievous wink. "You look good in binders, Wren," she called out.

Sabine smirked at her. "Come closer and say that, Anessa."

Despite her bravado, Sabine felt a pit of cold dread well up inside her stomach. Anessa was vicious and brutal, raised in the style of her clan's tradition. She would not hesitate to find a weakness to exploit in an enemy's defense and use it to ensure complete victory - which, by Eagan standards of victory, would result in their utter annihilation. Clan Eagan was competent, ruthless, and dedicated to the art of warfare in a way that gave even the mighty Ursa Wren pause.

Anessa was a step beyond her clan, which made this situation all the worse: she enjoyed her conquests, relishing her victories with a zeal bordering on bloodlust. Sabine had seen it in the little competitions she held during the early Mandalorian trials. Even then, she was always pushing to see how far she could go before someone stopped her.

She stared hard at the Eagan heiress. I was always the one who stood against you, Anessa.

And now, it wasn't her standing against Anessa.

It was Ezra. Her best friend was the only one standing between Sabine and a potential marriage to the cruel Anessa Eagan.

Sabine's hands tightened inside her binders. Ezra . . .

The Eagan heiress just laughed at Sabine's remark, a melodic sound that seemed incapable of being issued from someone with Anessa's personality. Her father, standing behind, frowned and nudged the young woman.

Anessa shot her father an annoyed look, but she let the laughter die as acknowledgment. She bowed deferentially towards Ursa, waiting on her throne.

"Countess, I hereby declare my challenge for the right to marry your daughter."

Ursa nodded in return. "I accept your challenge, Anessa of Clan Eagan."

Anessa went to resume her spot standing in front of her father, Markus. But as she did so, she gave Ezra a flat stare, her gray eyes flashing with a hungry gleam.

Ezra seemed unperturbed by Anessa's look, only giving a cheerful wave in response. The hungry gleam only increased in Anessa's eyes.

Fenn Rau squeezed Sabine's arm as a warning. "Easy now," he murmured into her ear. "This is not the time."

Sabine blinked, suddenly aware that she had taken a step forward as if about to launch herself at the Eagan heiress. She took a deep breath, relaxing herself and pushing the feeling of protectiveness towards Ezra down into a deep hole . . . for now.

Ursa sat back into her throne, utterly relaxed. "The next clan will present themselves, if they please: Clan Reghabi."

(Pictured above: Jorge Reghabi, the heir to Clan Reghabi and second candidate to challenge for Sabine. He shares a deep-seated admiration and love towards Sabine for an incident during their early childhood when she stood up for him against a crowd of bullies.)

Instilling herself a sense of calm, she focused on the next candidate. A stocky, broad-shouldered figure, only dwarfed by the even more mountainous one standing behind them. The former took a decisive step forward, shrugging off their fine cloak, revealing a handsome, chiseled face that could have been featured on holo-dramas during the Old Republic days. His dark skin glowed with vitality, and he flashed a vibrant smile at Sabine.

Sabine let loose a gasp, her eyes widening in shocked recognition. "Jorge?" she blurted out, forgetting all sense of decorum. The image of a scrawny child, frail as a leaf, barely fitting into their first set of armor did not compute with this new updated image of the Jorge Reghabi she remembered.

The smile grew wider and with a whoop of excitement Jorge rushed forward to grapple Sabine into a huge bear hug. "Starbird!" he yelled. "It is so good to see you again, my friend!"

From the corner of her eye, Sabine caught her mother attempting to hide a bemused smile. "Stand down," she said softly to the guards who were alarmed at the sudden movement. They relaxed their stances to a more neutral position in response to the command.

Wheezing from the strength of Jorge's hug, Sabine gasped, "It's good to see you, too. Can you - ack - let me go before my ribs break?"

He let go immediately, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "Of course, of course," he said. "My apologies."

"No worries," she replied, wincing at her aching sides. She studied Jorge, taking in the sizeable growth in his frame. "You've grown."

"Yes," he said proudly. "Turns out I was a late bloomer. Now I am big and strong - and, more importantly, I can return the favor from when we were young."

Sabine frowned at him. "What favor?"

He leaned in close. "Now I can protect you, Starbird."

A memory returned her at Jorge's words: a crowd of young Mandalorians, jeering at a bruised youngling, Jorge, sprawled on the ground. In her mind's eye, she saw the younger version of her push her way through the mob, standing against them with nothing more than a sparring stick as a means of defense.

Smiling faintly, she merely said, "It wasn't a business transaction, Jorge. You needed help."

He winked at her. "And now you need help. I must save your clan."

From her throne, Ursa coughed loudly. "The challenger from Clan Reghabi. Please make your declaration, so we may move on?"

"Jorge!" barked the Clan Reghabi head. The matriarch of Jorge's clan, Asan Reghabi, slipped the cloak off her shoulders, her dark eyes sparkling with anger at her son. She was the spitting image of her child - or, rather, it was vice versa. Her hair was cut short in a military style, peppered through with gray throughout the long years of battle for dominance. The beskar armor she wore was in the colors of her clan, matching the vivid evergreen of a thriving forest.

"Jorge, by the founders, will you get your ass in line? Stop being affectionate with the girl, there will be time for that later when you win, you love-sick moron!"

The young man wilted from his mother's shouting but still managed to give Sabine a cheeky smile. He skipped back to his position and gave Ursa an extra deep, reverential bow by way of apology. "Countess, the candidate for Clan Reghabi hereby declares his challenge for the right to your daughter's hand in marriage."

The Wren matriarch looked down from her throne, a small smile forming from the Reghabi heir's antics. "I accept your challenge, Jorge Reghabi."

The Reghabi heir straightened himself and went back to his mother's side. The matriarch prodded her son sharply in the forehead, letting loose an exasperated hiss at his behavior. Sabine grinned for a moment but then sobered as she thought about the increasingly dire reality for Ezra who was watching the situation with a calm expression of polite interest.

Clan Reghabi was another clan of notable ambition but where Eagan could be seen more as a laser scalpel like approach to their enemies, Reghabi tended to be more like a battering ram. They were not known for their subtlety and the tactics they chose in battle were aimed to overwhelm and bludgeon their opponents into submission. For better or worse, Reghabi never surrendered and always ensured their enemies paid for any victory with no small amount of blood.

The pit of dread inside her grew even more but Sabine was determined to not let it show on her face. Ezra was smart, capable, adaptable to any situation and, more importantly, he was acting in accordance with a plan devised from Ursa.

It would have to be enough. It had to be enough.

"Final candidate, please present yourself," said Ursa briskly.

(Pictured above: Tal Cobel, the heir to Clan Cobel and final challenger for Sabine's hand in marriage. They grew attached to Sabine during their early years in Mandalorian training and fell in love with her when she encouraged them to embrace their true identity.)

The last candidate stepped forward, a tiny figure that was enveloped by the fine cloak bestowed upon them. With a subtle shift of their shoulders, the cloak fell to the ground revealing the heir to Clan Cobel, Tal Cobel. Their auburn hair was tied up in a loose bun with a face that could be mistaken for cute were it not for the determined, calculating expression that shined from their hazel eyes.

Tal caught Sabine's eyes and gave an awkward bow. Sabine acknowledged it with one of her own, saying, "Hello, Tal. It's been a while."

"Hello, Sabine," replied Tal softly. "I've missed you."

The Cobel heir paused before saying, even more softly: "You never wrote back to me."

Sabine froze, the guilt spreading through her. She caught Ezra's eyes, who watched the conversation with a frown.

"I know," replied Sabine. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I never forgot about you. My life just got . . . busy. I didn't want to involve you in that."

Tal nodded, their expression not giving anything away. "It's alright. We will have plenty of time to catch up when we're married."

"Tal," chided their mother, standing close behind. Mariza Cobel, barely taller than her child, wore the traditional colors of her clan: glacial blues and silvers. The Cobel matriarch's face was creased from the years of wear and tear and could be described as gentle, but the reputation of her clan preceded her: Clan Cobel preferred to have their victories be assured before the battle was waged, focusing on gathering enough crucial information to subdue their enemies without firing a single shot.

They were the spearhead of a new train of thought in Mandalorian warfare: spying, misinformation, and subterfuge. No less dangerous than the other two clans being represented; what they lacked in pure offensive capability, they more than made up for in superior tactical thinking and planning.

Tal blinked, cheeks turning rosy, and then turned towards Ursa. "My apologies, Countess. I hereby declare my challenge for the right to Sabine's hand in matrimony."

"Granted," replied Ursa. Tal nodded at Sabine again before returning to their spot next to Mariza.

With a clap of her hands, Ursa rose from her throne to survey the four candidates: Anessa Eagan, Jorge Reghabi, Tal Cobel, and last but certainly not least, Ezra Bridger.

"Challengers, I thank you for your warm greetings to this sacred event." she announced, sounding sincere. "Your journeys have been long. I invite you to partake of our hospitality and rest tonight under our protection here in Krownest. Fenn Rau will show you all to your rooms and supply you with supper later in the evening."

Ursa's eyes flashed in warning, voice rising to make her next point clear. "I expect a quiet evening tonight. The Rite of Hearts will prove arduous in the day to come, and I will have you all compete on an even playing field. Fenn Rau will be watching closely to ensure no foul play occurs."

Markus Eagan stepped forward, his gaunt face twisting in annoyance. "What is the question will you be posing for the challenge, Ursa?"

Ursa favored the man with a look of grim amusement. "You don't wish to wait, Markus? The anticipation makes things so exciting."

The Eagan patriarch's expression turned sour. "No. You know I despise waiting, Ursa."

She smiled at him, in a way that showed off her sharp canines. "I know. That's why I'm doing it."

The man's face suffused darkly with anger but he somehow managed to keep from retorting. Sabine sensed there was an ugly history between her mother and Markus, one that was better kept under wraps for now.

Ezra raised his hand.

"Yes, Jedi Bridger?" asked Ursa exasperatedly. "I will remind you, once again, that this is not an Academy classroom. You need not raise your hand."

"Um, I would like to know. If that's alright. Something to think about over dinner later, at least," he said quietly.

Ursa regarded him for a few moments. Then, sighing, she asked, "Very well. The question I pose is this: What does Sabine need?"

Ezra raised his eyebrows in a questioning matter, his expression mirrored by the other candidates and their parents.

"I require clarification," Mariza Cobel said. Beside her, Tal studied Sabine as if searching for an answer. Sabine shrugged, unsure of what her mother meant by the question.

Ursa gestured at her daughter. "It's simple enough. The galaxy spins itself further into chaos with each passing day. If any of you are worthy enough to stand by Sabine's side as a partner, you must show me that you know her heart. What does she need to live in this galaxy? What will you provide her that the others cannot?"

"Well . . ." Ezra ventured. "I mean, she needs food."

Sabine stared at him.

Tal frowned at him; Jorge's face erupted into a broad smile; and Anessa glowered at the young Jedi. Their parents shared similar disapproving looks at Ezra's candor.

Ursa rolled her eyes. "Does she now?" she asked, her tone practically begging him to discontinue this train of thought.

Unfortunately, Ezra did not catch on.

"Well, yeah," Ezra continued, not reading the room's atmosphere. "She eats like a baby rancor. I've seen it."

Sabine wanted to melt into the ground and disappear forever. "Ezra!" she hissed. "Stop. Talking."

He looked at her and immediately deflated. "Uh, forget what I said. Sabine eats delicately. Totally healthy and normal for someone of her size."

Ignoring Ezra entirely, Markus Eagan asked, "And how are the candidates expected to present this answer? I assume that's where the challenge will come in. Or are we starting the galaxy's first Mandalorian poetry contest?"

There was a ripple of laughter from the assorted guests. Sabine shrugged and muttered, "That doesn't sound too bad to me."

"No, Markus," replied Ursa in a clipped tone. "The suitors will venture into the Krownest mines at early dawn tomorrow. There they will make their way through the caverns, find the rich vein of beskar that lies there, and mine what they need to create their answer to my question. It will be a journey that will last most of the day, from my estimates."

There was a shocked silence that settled among the guests in light of Ursa's statement.

"Krownest . . . you mean to tell me," Asan Reghabi said slowly, "has its own mines of beskar?"

"Why were we not told this?" demanded Markus.

Ursa stared coldly at the Eagan patriarch. "Because it is a Krownest secret. Mine to keep. And it will stay that way, or I will have you all shot on sight."

No one said a word. Sabine surveyed the group: the Eagans were stony faced, the Cobels looked thoughtful, and the Reghabis seemed impatient to move on.

Only Ezra seemed to be focused on something else other than Ursa: her. She caught his look and gave a casual shrug, pretending that the information was not shocking news to her also.

The Wren matriarch clapped her hands once. "Now, it is time for food and then rest. You all have much to think about."

As Fenn Rau began to shepherd them all out, Ezra made to move closer towards Sabine. She shook her head vigorously. "I'll talk to you later, Ezra," she said, inwardly regretful at how curt her statement sounded.

He stopped in his tracks, giving her a sad look before allowing Fenn Rau to lead him away with the group of people who intended to kill him tomorrow.

And then she was alone in the throne room with her mother.

~ the duel ~

Fenn Rau returned to the throne room after seeing the guests off to their rooms and ensuring their security. Sabine stood across from her mother, newly unshackled, arms crossed against her chest. The younger Wren's expression was alarmingly placid given the stressful events she had just experienced. In Rau's time here, it was an indicator that a bigger storm was brewing inside Sabine, and he braced himself for the eventual break in her facade.

Ursa still sat on her throne, chin resting on clasped hands. For the first time that day, the Wren matriarch looked exhausted. He wondered if it was because of gathering of hostile clans under her roof . . .

" - were you going to tell me about Ezra's involvement, mother? I deserved to know in advance that you blackmailed my best friend into this mess!"

. . . or if this was just a normal reaction to arguing with Sabine.

He edged closer to the conversation with a high degree of caution, keeping track of the guards standing watch around the room. They didn't seem perturbed by the escalating situation - yet.

"The Jedi volunteered, Sabine," answered Ursa. Rau knew she was being honest here, having listened in on that conversation. The Countess had barely said two words before Bridger's agreement to help. "There was no blackmail involved."

"I don't believe you," retorted Sabine. "He would never involve himself in something as asinine as this."

Ursa's eyes flashed sharply, cutting through her exhaustion. "Watch your words, daughter. Your freedom is not an asinine matter to me - and to him, as well. On that matter, we are in agreement."

Sabine gritted her teeth, her eyes darkening with fury that was now freely boiling over. "You've put him into a deliberately precarious position! I won't have it."

"Or what?" challenged Ursa. "You're afraid he's going to get himself hurt?"

Sabine stomped her foot. "Yes! And I'm also afraid he's going to hurt the others! On my behalf! Which goes against everything he believes in as a Jedi!"

Ursa cocked her head at Sabine, curious. "Jedi - especially in this day and age - are no strangers to violence, child."

"They're not trained as weapons like we are, mother," Sabine pointed out. "The Jedi are meant to be a shield. A means of defense. They never act, unless it is to defend."

"He is defending something," Ursa replied quietly. "The boy is defending you."

Rau watched Sabine freeze at that statement, her face twisting at some unknown emotion. Ursa observed this and remarked, "That's what vexes you, isn't it? That Bridger is putting more than just his life on the line - his code, the mantle of being a Jedi, is also what's at stake."

She leaned forward, eyes flashing with interest. "He's willing to compromise himself for you. And you cannot stand it - the feeling of be so helpless while a loved one risks it all to defend something as intangible as your heart and your freedom."

Sabine just looked at her - and Fau heard an alarm bell start tolling away. It looked like something vital, some deeply held personal belief, had broken inside the younger Wren at her mother's words.

(Pictured above: A defiant Sabine confronts Ursa regarding Ezra's involvement in the Rite of Hearts.)

There was an angry snap-hiss that crackled like lightning into the silence filling the room.

All the guards inside the room snapped their heads towards Sabine as she held the newly ignited Darksaber aloft over her head.

Ursa stared at her, rising slowly from her throne into a standing position. Rau shivered at the sight of such raw, naked fury emanating from the matriarch's face. It was only matched by the same emotion coming from her daughter, facing her mother with weapon drawn.

"That weapon," Ursa said, her voice eerily calm, "gives you authority over all of Mandalore."

"That's right," challenged Sabine. "So, mother - you will yield."

Ursa stepped down from her throne, walking slowly towards her daughter. The younger Wren tracked her mother's movement, shifting her footing cautiously.

"You forget where you stand, Sabine. This is not Mandalore," said Ursa.

She snapped her fingers. The guard nearest to her, standing against the wall, turned and threw his spear towards the Countess. She caught it deftly, slamming the end onto the stone floor.

It rang with the tone of a clear bell, indicating the strength of its beskar. Pure beskar, thought Fenn Rau. Strong enough to withstand a lightsaber.

"Your other Jedi friend, Kanan Jarrus, told me that I had underestimated you. That you are no longer a child," said Ursa.

Sabine didn't answer, except to just narrow her eyes. The Darksaber hummed angrily in her grasp.

"But he does not know you as I do, daughter. You still have much to learn."

"I won't let you use Ezra in this game of yours," replied Sabine through gritted strength. "It ends here, mother."

Ursa studied her daughter. "You're afraid. Afraid that he'll break himself to save you. And - then what? You won't be able to love him anymore? He'll be too damaged to be loved - like you?"

They were circling each other enough, close enough for a strike from either one of them but the battle was already being waged. Not through action but through words. And Ursa was winning, judging from the storm of emotions crossing through her daughter's face.

"Stop talking," whispered Sabine. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You do know. You're scared of the truth. And that fear blinds you. Makes you question him. And perhaps I should, too. If you have that little faith that your precious Jedi cannot overcome the challenge ahead then, when I'm finished with you here, I will go to his quarters and plunge this spear into his chest to spare him - "

Fenn Rau closed his eyes, feeling sympathy for Sabine. Ursa knew where her daughter's weakness was . . . and exploited it ruthlessly to her advantage.

Sabine let loose a primal, furious scream.

Ursa snapped the spear into a guard just in time as the black-white blade collided against the pure beskar in an explosion of sparks.

And the duel between mother and daughter began.

~ kanan ~

The rest of the day did not fare much better for Ezra.

Despite his best efforts, the other challengers - Anessa, Jorge, and Tal - kept mostly to themselves, along with their parents. Ezra had been met with either polite conversation that amounted to nothing or outright hostility (mainly from Clan Eagan). After several hours trying to get more information from anyone he could, Ezra felt frustrated with all the dead ends.

And he couldn't locate Fenn Rau, Sabine, or Ursa, either.

I'm way out of my depth on this one, he thought miserably. What have I gotten myself into?

With nothing else to go on and the hour growing later, Ezra decided to retire into his quarters for a while.

They were reasonably good accommodations - sparse on decoration but still comfortable with all the touches necessary for a good night's rest. It was certainly much nicer than the room he shared with Zeb back on the Ghost, not that he would ever complain to Hera about that.

He laid back on the bed, letting his body sink into the comfy plush, and closed his eyes. All he could think about was Sabine - namely, how upset she was that he had showed up. Yes, he had managed to get a smile out of her later on, but only just.

Ezra grimaced. As a Jedi, he was supposed to have the clarity of thought to see through any situation. But, as usual, when things came to Sabine and Mandalorians in general, that clarity was rarely present.

Sabine.

He had missed her greatly these past few months. And, admittedly, he was hoping that her reaction to his presence would have been . . . less angry at the very least.

Had he been wrong to come here? But if things weren't so dire, why did Ursa request his help? And what was he supposed to do, anyway? She hadn't been entirely forthcoming in their conversation as he made the trip to Krownest.

"I just need you to be yourself," Ursa had assured him. "I will handle the rest."

"Whatever that means," Ezra muttered. He rolled onto his side - and saw the holo-communicator built into the small desk that came with the room.

Sitting up, he reached over and keyed in a communications code. A call went out - and someone answered a few seconds later.

"Hey, kid," came the voice of Kanan Jarrus, his master. "I was wondering when I would get this call."

"Kanan," said Ezra, feeling relief pour through him. "Thanks for picking up."

"Of course. Everything going well over there? You and Sabine get hitched yet?"

Ezra felt his cheeks heat up. "That's not why I came here!"

"Really?" asked Kanan, his tone droll. "Because the way Hera explained it to me is that your plan is to marry Sabine . . . so that she won't have to get married at all. Or something like that."

"Well. When you put it like that - look, Ursa says Sabine doesn't want to be married. But she doesn't have a choice in this because of clan politics. So, if I marry her, Sabine won't have to marry anyone else."

"Uh-huh," replied Kanan. "And then - what? You two just pretend to be married until things settle down and get the marriage annulled?"

"Right," said Ezra. "We just . . . you know, put on an act, and when the time is right, Sabine can find a suitable partner for herself. On her own terms."

"And you're okay with that?"

Ezra ignored the pang of . . . he couldn't find the word to describe it. Loss? But that would imply that he thought Sabine was his to begin with. And the marriage wouldn't be real . . .

"This isn't about me," he answered back. "This is all for Sabine."

"If you say so, kid," said Kanan. "But I'm sensing there's more to talk about here."

"Yeah," said Ezra, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, uh, am not so sure I thought all - well, any of this, through."

Laughter came through the call. Ezra grimaced. "Oh, you think?" asked his master. "Do tell."

"Pretty sure the other challengers are planning to kill me in tomorrow's contest," growled Ezra. "Really could use some advice here."

"Did you try talking to them?"

"First thing I did after we all introduced ourselves."

"Well," said Kanan, "that might be why they want to kill you. So don't do that anymore."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Sound advice, master. Thanks."

"You're worried about losing," prompted Kanan suddenly.

He paused. After a few moments, he whispered back, "Yeah. I am."

"There's so much riding on this, Kanan. I'm still not sure what I'm doing here - you should have seen Sabine's expression; she was not happy. I think she hates me now."

Kanan chuckled. "No, she doesn't. I know her, and I know you. Don't listen to your doubts. They'll eat away at you. Listen to what your heart is saying."

Sabine.

"Are you listening to it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," said Ezra quietly.

"Focus on that and why you're there. Make it simple. Don't stray from it, and you'll find your way through this mess. Reach out to the Force for guidance."

He closed his eyes, letting his master's words sink into him. "Okay. Thank you, Kanan."

"Still worried about losing?"

"A little," Ezra admitted.

Another chuckle from Kanan. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager all my credits on you, kid."

Ezra frowned. "Why?"

"Because Sabine will be watching, I assume. You won't fail in front of her."

The young Jedi smiled faintly. "You're right," he said, feeling confidence bloom inside his chest. "I won't."

"May the Force be with you, Ezra. And keep our girl safe from the scary suitors," said Kanan.

Ezra laughed. "Same to you, master. Tell the others 'hi' for me."

"Will do."

He cut the call. Standing up, Ezra stretched tired muscles - and heard his stomach growl.

Well, might as well see if dinner's ready, he thought. Maybe the other suitors will feel more talkative with food in their bellies.

Ezra made for the door -

It hissed open before he reached it. Sensing a new presence, he reached for the lightsaber hanging off his belt -

And then recognized it a second later.

It was Sabine. One of her arms was, alarmingly, clearly broken encased in a thick cast held across her chest in a makeshift sling to prevent movement.

"Sabine?" asked Ezra, concern overriding all other thought. "What the hell happened - "

With her remaining good arm, she shoved him further inside the room before he could finish his sentence.

"I need you to do me a favor, Ezra," she said softly. Her eyes were scary wide, like a desperate animal cornered.

Regaining his balance, Ezra looked at her. "What is it?" he asked, bracing himself.

Sabine just continued to stare at him, breathing heavily. He couldn't make out the hurricane of emotions fighting for control of her face, but he could feel it through the Force: anger, despair, regret - and, impossibly, some small seed of what felt like hope.

"Kill them," Sabine whispered. "I want you to kill them all."

TO BE CONTINUED

[lex-the-flex]

Here With Me

Luke Skywalker x reader

Summary: Acting on instinct, Luke Skywalker has to let go of control, even if it means saving someone he loves.

Word Count: 970

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, descriptions of torture, injuries, and mentions of the Dark Side, Luke unleashing literal hell + tampering with pure rage, action and violence, (only the destruction of Dark Troopers) MEGA FLUFF, Luke being a dutiful Jedi Master, and love is powerful than the Dark Side.

A/N: Got this idea from @winterinspace and I LOVE IT! I can totally see Luke doing this for anyone he cares about. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Tears formed in your eyes as you let out a scream like no other. Your vocal cords strained from the effort while the rest of your body went numb to the pain. Your face remained drenched in sweat and the lingering taste of iron coated your tongue.

Even through gritted teeth, you refused to give the Empire what they wanted. You wouldn't spill the information on where you last saw Luke Skywalker -- or where he was going.

To the Dark Troopers, you were just toying with them, allowing them to make a fool of themselves. However, you truly didn't know where Luke was. One night he suddenly vanished from the Rebellion without any warning and you were put on the front line, much to Leia's dismay.

"Alright, R2. I'm here." He informed the droid.

Waking from the quick meditative nap, Luke's eyes adjusted to the vast darkness of space, praying that the compass' intention was true. Otherwise, he'd lose you forever.

On the X-Wing's computer, the coordinates for the suspected planet appeared, and they only made Luke's demeanor remain the same: get you and get out, no matter the cost.

Descending through the planet's atmosphere, a distinct series of embers began to light up beneath Luke's icy blue eyes, fueling the man with a strong fury. Jumping down from the ship's ladder, he hit the ground with such a strong force, it caused the ground to crack below him.

Unzipping the orange jumpsuit, his raven-like robes escaped from the plastic zipper, revealing his Mastery to no one but the mountainside. Unsheathing the dark cloak from the storage shelf, the piece of

fabric flowed in the cool breeze once Luke draped it over his shoulders. Unhooking the silver and gold lightsaber at his hip, Luke headed down the mountain with a single command.

"Stay here, R2. I'll be right back." 

****

The facility's nature surrounded the halls with an eerie silence, it nearly caught Luke off guard. He expected to have gone through at least a great majority of the base with half of its inhabitants on the floor. Quietly shaking those thoughts from his head, Luke knew he couldn’t go that route; to the Dark Side. As did his Father all those years ago. But now, he had no choice. 

Ducking in a hidden alcove, Luke patiently sat against the wall. Stalling his breathing, he focused with the Force, surrendering to its blissfulness in a daze.

In and out.

Concentrating, his dark brow fluttered and scrunched together just as the vision of you filled the darkness behind his eyelids. You were all alone in a cell, shaking from the pain with cuts and bruises all over your exposed skin. Barely hugging your legs, your head sat on your cut up knees, hoping to find some solace in this place.

'You are not alone in this fight, Y/N. I'm here for you.'

Lifting your head to his declaration, your eyes welled with tears at the sight of two Dark Troopers standing at the cell's door.

'Luke, no...'

"No, please don't--" You pleaded, but it was too late.

Suddenly, a painful scream left the pits of your lungs once a taser was shoved into your side. Luke unconsciously balled his fists together, remembering a similar pain he left, where the Emperor himself left the young man hideously scarred. The pain you endured mirrored his own and Luke swore never again.

Opening his eyes to the empty hallway, his once calm and passionate soul-piercing eyes shifted within seconds. While they remained blue, all he saw was red. Something buried deep inside his chest, his heart had finally snapped.

And everyone in this facility had to pay.

Rounding the corner to the prison block, Luke ignited his green plasma blade, not even caring who was on the other side. HIs anger rose up in an untamed fury whilst a wave of adrenaline coursed through his veins. The two droids rounded you up by the wrists and drug you to the middle of prison, ready to strike again.

Luke marched through the hallway with heavy steps, instantly blocking the rain of blaster fire that was impending down on him. Working his way past each of the Troopers, Luke pulled, shoved, and deflected every single shot, punch, and kick that would slow him down. With each defeated sound and whimper that left your chapped lips was more than enough to fuel his angry attacks.

Moving swiftly down the hall, Luke slammed his lightsaber down on the remaining Dark Trooper who laid on the floor. Hitting the cold and dark metal again and again, the hot plasma beam cut through the machine like butter, making a cold and heartbreaking memory creep into the back of his mind.

'You will not take her from me!'

Entering the main section of the prison, Luke was greeted with the sight of the two Troopers repeatedly pounding their mechanical hands and butt ends of their blasters into your broken skin. Then, in a flash, the pain stopped, and you were greeted by the sight of the Dark Troopers crunched into tiny pieces on the floor.

Gazing up at Luke, his breath remained as frigid gasps once he realized what he had done. Seeing the utter fear in your e/c eyes brought him back to the world, making him understand that he tampered with the Dark Side. His fury and rage fueled him like no other, allowing him to part his enemies like the ocean. And you were his saving grace.

Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he calmly walked over to you, and gently picked you up without a word. Silently carrying your sore and nearly broken body, Luke's heart began to heal and mend itself back together, leaving behind an unspoken wake of destruction in his path.

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[disneytva]

DISNEY NETWORKS MARCH 2025 -HIGHLIGHTS

Kiff

Kiff Has to Sneeze ; Never Meet Your Mailboxes SEASON PREMIERE 15/3

The Other Movie ; Roy-alty Check 15/3

Stramded ; Hairstory 22/3

Lights Out / Dinner at Barry's 22/3

Taily ; Cocina Island 29/3

StuGo

Deep Trent ; Disaster Play 2/3

Shapesister ; Lullah's Game 9/3

Night Mutants ; Chunk Beastknuckles 16/3

The Leg Farm ; Unquenchable Thurst 23/3

Plantcis ; Big Ol' Heads Egg Salad Venture 30/3

Big City Greens

Hullabaloo'd ; Jaded 15/3

Dog Proof ; Cricket Control 22/3

April Fool ; Good Grief 29/3

Primos

Summer of the Mixtape ; Summer of Je Ne Sais Quoi 1/3

Summer of Local Girl ; Summer of Cumple 8/3

Summer of La Cultura ; Summer of Santa Tabi 15/3

Summer of Calabazas y Tostones ; Summer of El Demo 22/3

Summer of Los Limones ; Summer of La Iguana 29/3

Moon Girl And Devil Dinosaur

A Devil-ish Birthday 1/3

Party Girl 1/3

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner 8/3

Shoot for the Moon SERIES FINALE 8/3

Hamster And Gretel

No Powers Day ; Everybody Loves Main Compute 16/3

Gretel Keeps It Reel ; Squeaky Friday 23/3

Gran Slam ; The Art of Deception 30/3

Chibiverse

Penny and the Chibi Scouts ; Quackstreet Boys ; Cheer Up Chibis 22/3

Star Wars: Young Jedi Adventures

Unmasked 19/3

Just Like Wes ; Raxlo to the Rescue 20/3

The Helpful Harvester ; Little Lost Droid 21/3

Tenoo's Fastest ; Home Sweet Templ 28/3

Robogobo

Bouncy Ball Baddie ; Spray Paint Showdown 7/3

Allie Oops! ; The Great Bridge Face-Off 14/3

Crab-Cuffed ; Bees is for Booster 21/3

Pedal to the Medal ; When You Wrench Upon a Star 28/3

Kindergarten: The Musical

You're a Good Teacher, Ms. Moreno ; Piñata With the Fringe on Top 7/3

Gotta Go! ; Feel Ev'ry Feeling 21/3

Ariel

Jewels the Winner ; Abuelita's Shawl 7/3

Pupstruction

The Egg-cellent Egg Hunt ; Adventure on Pupcake Mountain 21/3

A Newsworthy Build ; Webigail's Web 28/3

SuperKitties

Never-Ending Rainbow ; Lost Leashes 7/3

Easter Buddy ; Egg-celent Adventure 28/3

Mickey Mouse Funhouse

Ballet Fun ; Sitting Ducks 7/3

The Golden Mango ; Minnie and the Mystic Crystal 14/3

Steamboat Funny ; The Emerald Emperor's Journey 21/3

Spidey And His Amazing Friends

Dinosaurs on the Loose ; WEB-STER'S Big Bad Bug 14/3

[toomanyheadthinks]

I don't think jod is going to hurt the kids or their parents. I think he might try to pretend he's a Jedi again to get the adults to cooperate. They don't know that the Jedi and the old republic fell so they might buy it. I do however think it'll all fall apart when he tries to meet the supervisor so he can land the pirate ship.

I'm still holding out that the supervisor is droid / computer of sort and it can either go two ways. He tries to take over At attin by controlling the supervisor (so he becomes the main bad guy) or there he accidently activates like a contingency plan which will have a terrible outcome for the people who live on At Attin. We still don't know what the great work is, and why their society seems oddly authoritative. But if At Achrann is to go buy it probably isn't good.

[stardustandash]

Hiiiii! How about 'Grab the little one's for JFO for the requests? Thanks!

This one went through so many different versions in my brain and on paper omg. Excellent prompt picking, definitely gave me much to think about and many ideas!!

Waiting for a Light in the Dark

Febuwhump Day 22: "Grab the Little One" Words: 1718

Cal’s hand is sweaty where it wraps around the hilt of his lightsaber. He knows that it will make it harder to hold if he needs to use it, but he can’t let it go. There’s been nothing bad or out of the ordinary so far, not even a little fight, but there’s something off about this place. A mission to collect Separatist information goes awry. Luckily Cal still has Master Tapal to save the day.

AO3 Link

Cal’s hand is sweaty where it wraps around the hilt of his lightsaber. He knows that it will make it harder to hold if he needs to use it, but he can’t let it go. There’s been nothing bad or out of the ordinary so far, not even a little fight, but there’s something off about this place. It makes him uneasy, like he’s being watched, but a careful eye scanning the walls picks out no cameras, just a few small vent covers.

Around him the clones are either picking up on his nervousness or nervous themselves. Master Tapal told him that the clones could also be attuned to the Force like any other living thing, and that their gut feelings could be trusted. Even Sunny is tense enough that he’s either worried or has a stomach ache. The Force tells him which it is. All of the men are buzzing through the Force with their quiet anxiety. Contrary to that Master Tapal, wherever he is in the facility, is calm and steadfast as river stones through their connection. Cal wraps himself in the feeling of it, hoping that it’ll help him be braver.

“Thought there were supposed to be clankers here,” grumbles Gamut as they turn yet another corner into an empty hallway.

“It’s listed as a programming facility for Separatist droids, that doesn’t mean that there will be droids here,” replies Twitch.

“It kinda does,” says Sunny. “It is droid stuff.”

“Actually, they only manufacture the droid’s data chips here. They program them and then mass manufacture them. And since we’re updating tactics all the time, they keep updating the droids. Even the tactical ones,” says Cal.

Five painted helmets turn to him. It’s easy to hear the smile in Twitch’s voice when he says: “Well look who read the mission briefing.”

Cal blushes and rubs at the back of his head with the hand not wrapped around his lightsaber. “Of course, we need to read the briefings to prepare for the mission.”

“See,” Twitch slaps Sunny on the shoulder. “Even the little Commander knows to read the briefings.”

“You just sum it up for me anyways, why should I waste time reading when I could be getting extra sleep instead. A well-rested soldier lives longer.”

On Sunny’s other side Mulch giggles quietly, his shoulders shaking as he contains his laughter. Cal almost giggles as well but that nagging feeling of something being wrong stays too close like it’s stuck in his throat and won’t let the sound escape. So he just smiles at his men and leads on.

It’s not long before they come to the door they’ve been looking for. There are two central computing hubs in the facility, and Master Tapal is heading to one while Cal goes to the other. Together they would download any data they could find on Separatist intelligence before destroying everything.  Simple enough, especially since it seems like the facility is briefly vacant for upgrades. A quiet mission for a young Padawan only a few months out of the temple.

Cal stands to the side and fidgets with his lightsaber as Tuner fiddles with the door locks. The others unholster their blasters and hold them at the ready. The facility is supposed to be empty but if anyone is there, they would be in the control hub. Other than Tuner’s armoured fingers typing away at his datapad while he hacks the door the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It does nothing to ease Cal’s nerves. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” says Tuner. Despite the quiet of his voice they all jump. A moment later the door slides open.

Chaos greets them with a mechanical screech.

The first time Cal encountered a battle droid he’d thought it sounded funny. The robotic quality of its voice mixed with its general inability to think for itself made it say funny things in a weird voice. Then the droid had pulled a blaster and shot Fifty through the chest and suddenly they weren’t funny anymore. So despite the screeching and garbled words coming from the battle droids in the room Cal feels all his anxiety pool into icy dread in his stomach.

There are at least twenty droids in the room. What they were doing there is beyond Cal’s ability to decipher. Instead he feels that same fear he felt then and tries his best to let it go as he rushes in with his lightsaber raised.

A shot from his left has Cal spinning to block and send it right back to the droid that fired it. His men also jump into action, sliding down behind empty desks for cover and returning fire. Cal follows only half a heartbeat behind and ducks down beside Twitch. He’s close enough to hear Twitch’s distress call to Captain Key, Master Tapal’s second in command for this mission. Unfortunately, he can’t hear the reply. He tugs on his bond to Master Tapal through the Force anyway. He knows he’ll get a lecture about controlling his fear, but that’s preferable to being dead.

Somewhere to his left Cal hears Tuner yelp and feels his spirit waver in the Force. He grips his lightsaber tight. He can’t lose any of his men. With barely a thought he pops up from behind the desk and begins reflecting back as many of the droid’s blaster bolts as he can.

“Commander! Get down!” Twitch yells and tugs on his robes. Cal ignores it. They aren’t going to make it if they stick to hiding.

With the chaos in the room Cal must rely on the force to warn him of the incoming shots. He can barely see through the dust and sparks in the air. But he holds on even as his arms grow heavy with the effort. Then the droids clue in.

“A Jedi! Get the little one!”

Cal’s heart drops into his stomach as the shadowy figures of the droids in the dust all turn to face him as one unit. He shifts his weight and raises his lightsaber in a defensive stance, but knows in his gut it will not be enough. He should run, or hide like Twitch is screaming at him to do, but instead an odd peace surrounds him and he stands his ground. When the droids fire he spins his lightsaber in wide arcs in front of him. The ‘saber feels oddly distant, moving faster than ever on its own accord. Cal feels like he’s a passenger in his own body watching the blaster bolts be reflected back to the droids. At least until the sensation of white hot pain sinks into him.

Cal staggers and Twitch takes the opportunity to yank him down beside him.

“Karking hell, Commander,” Twitch growls.

Looking down Cal spots the singed side of his robes and the charred flesh across his ribs. It hurts more to see it and Cal swears he can feel the frayed edges of his robes catching in his flesh and dragging thin lines through it. He breathes in sharply through his nose and tries not to cry. They’re still in the middle of a firefight, he can’t cry and distract everyone.

“I’m fine,” Cal gasps. “I’m good.”

“With all due respect: that’s bantha shit, Commander,” says Twitch.

Cal frowns at him, then flinches as a blaster bolt pings off the desk above their heads. On Twitch’s other side Sunny returns fire and another droid falls with a metallic scream. It won’t be enough though. Though they’ve reduced the numbers down by half at least, Tuner is down and only Sunny and Mulch are firing back at this point. Twitch is too busy fussing at Cal when he should be helping take out the droids. Cal isn’t going to die right then and there, though even breathing hurts at this point. The blaster bolt had gone straight through the soft skin over his ribs below his armpit. He can’t even move his arm either, instead frozen with it held out to the side awkwardly.

They’re going to lose. Cal squeezes his eyes shut to stop the tears from leaking. They’re going to die here and it’s going to be all his fault. He’s going to watch his men die while he struggles to breathe through the wound in his side. The heat of it radiates through him in waves, numbing and burning in turns. Twitch is trying to peel a bacta patch to put on it but his hands are shaking and the armour is making him clumsy. It doesn’t matter, they’re going to die anyway.

Then there’s a shout from the doorway. Familiar and deep and full of challenge. Cal looks up to see Master Tapal and his team step through the doorway, the bright light from the hall framing them from behind. For a moment Cal forgets the pain. Relief floods him as Master Tapal and his team charge into the battle and make quick work of the surprised droids. This is how the rest of the galaxy feels when the Jedi come to the rescue, Cal thinks. Then the pain starts creeping back in to the edges of his consciousness and he shrinks down against the smooth metal of the desk.

Twitch takes the opportunity to slap the bacta patch on Cal’s wound and the mix of pain and relief makes him jump and reach for the patch. Twitch catches his hands and gently holds them away from it.

“Let the bacta do its thing, Commander,” says Twitch as gently as he can to be heard over the sounds of battle. “We’re good, General Tapal’s got it from here.”

And that is true. In the span of only a few minutes Master Tapal and his men have cleared the room and are getting started on the half of the mission Cal’s team was supposed to complete. Guilt flares in Cal as he watches the clones get to work on copying the Separatist intelligence and check over Tuner. He watches Master Tapal approach him. Or watches his feet pad closer. Between the pain burning through his side and the guilt Cal isn’t sure he can look his Master in the eye. He takes as deep a breath as he can and waits for the inevitable lecture.

[captainzigo]

this is the jedi OC i made when i was ten. i have decided to reanimate him because cringe is dead. also he is very easy to draw. their special force power is that they control computers with his mind. like he accesses panels from afar, or auto pilots his ship, or mind controls droids. but he is really easily distracted and whenever he does force stuff he has to have total silence. they were friends with shaak-ti because she is my favorite jedi, and they were trained by jocasta nu because she is my other favorite.

when i was little i assumed he would die at the end of the clone wars because i thought all of the jedi died except obiwan. but having seen most of the star wars stuff as an adult, godamn are there a lot of jedi that didn’t get sixtysixed. so i say he survived

for a jedi knight, he is really bad at sword fighting. which is still good, but ya know. so his lightsaber does this thing where it like pulses which makes it hard to sword fight him. it also has a button that interrupts the containment field for a second so all the plasma goes out like a blaster bolt. that, and other unorthodox lightsaber applications, is why he has a bandolier full of batteries.

he really likes that he still has his jedi star fighter and he keeps it working and painted. at great personal expense

[jwilliams051197]

Just watched the finale of Skeleton Crew, and it was such a great finale. We finally get a lot of information of who runs At Attin, and why the planet has been kept as a secret for so long. The reveal of it being run by a gigantic droid was a good one (it honestly reminds me of the Star Trek trope of worlds being controlled by computers, but it honestly could fit into Star Wars as well). I also find it kind of interesting how out of the loop this droid has been since being cut off from the rest of the galaxy, with the last time they made contact with the Republic was right after Order 66. We also get a glimpse at Jod's true backstory, and it was conveyed well by Jude Law. I honestly wouldn't mind a comic delving into his backstory in more detail, because it's just so fascinating. I love that all the kids were able to complete their character arcs, especially Wim finally able to wield a lightsaber. I'm just so happy with this finale. I really hope these characters turn up in other projects.

[sev-on-kamino]

Show & Tell - Kinktober 2023 vol. 2

Pairing: Commander Thorn x afab!Reader

Warnings: teasing, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv sex (be safe irl), the armor stays on, public sex, competency kink, authority kink, lil voice kink, breathplay if you squint, marking, if I missed anything lemme know

Summary: You think you can get away with teasing Thorn because you’re at work, and he’s on duty. He proves you wrong.

Word count: 1599

A/N: this isn’t proofread or edited. if you see an error, no you don’t 🥰

Dividers by the GOAT @dystopicjumpsuit

Teasing Thorn was an art, and you were an artist. Choosing the proper venue was just as, if not more, important than your methods.

Letting him catch you, as your eyes trailed hungrily up and down his armored form. Making sure he saw you squeeze your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat. Making eye contact while you licked the icing off of your spoon.

All guaranteed winners.

Your greatest hits.

But you’d learned quickly that Thorn rarely had any reservations about fucking you wherever you chose to tease him. Restaurants, 79’s, Corrie HQ. The higher the chance you could get caught, the harder he took you. He’d watched you come undone for him through the mirror of so many refreshers you’d both lost count. And you felt so bad about defiling Fox’s desk that you’d bought him some really expensive chocolates for his decant day, and forbade Thorn from eating any.

Yet you still felt exceptionally confident that you could easily rile him up, and successfully make him wait that day. Your team was setting up new computers, datapads, and protocol droids in the senate building, and Thorn, along with a squad of his men, were accompanying you and your team through the higher security areas.

You’d drawn the short straw that morning which meant updating and testing the viewing platforms in the rotunda. The longest and most tedious of all the tasks, but it required precision because even Grizzer wouldn’t be able to find every piece of you, if a senator fell out of the air during session.

Thorn naturally agreed to stay with you while you worked in the center of the room at the Chancellor’s podium. You plugged in your holopad, and began running your diagnostic report.

“This all for you today?” Thorn asked, as he watched your fingers flying across the screen with interest.

“Mmhmm,” you replied, not taking your eyes off of your screen. “What about you? Fox cracking the whip as hard as usual, or shall I make dinner for two?”

“Make it for three,” Thorn commanded playfully. “I’m starving.”

“Ok, Commander Bottomless Pit,” you said, laughing, as you bent over to access the control panel in the podium.

You heard a slow exhale through Thorn’s vocoder, and wiggled your hips.

“See something you like?”

“I see something that belongs to me.”

“Easy, Commander, we’re on duty,” you replied, straightening up, and popping open the top button of your shirt.

“I know exactly where we are,” Thorn said with a short laugh, as he folded his arms, and regarded you through his visor. “Now get back to work.”

You were used to Thorn using his command voice at random times. You liked hearing it, and he liked the effect it had on you. But at that moment, you decided you just didn’t want to comply…not fully anyway.

“Yes, sir,” you said, abandoning your work voice in favor of the bedroom tones that made Thorn squirm.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Thorn warned.

“See, I don’t think I am,” you replied, popping another button before resuming your work.

Thorn released another short laugh followed by an amused hum. He watched you work, your face the picture of concentration, as platforms detached from the wall and you moved them about before replacing them.

You bit your lip, and hummed softly, as you shifted in your seat. To anyone else it would simply look like you wanted to get comfortable, but to Thorn it meant war. He stepped up behind your seat, reaching around to grip your throat just beneath your jaw.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” He growled into your ear.

“This little display meant to stop me?” You asked with a little smirk, even as you squeezed your thighs together in earnest.

“Stand up,” Thorn commanded, releasing you and backing up to give you room.

Your stomach lurched with excitement and anxiety.

“You wouldn’t,” you whispered even as you complied, standing up and gazing up into his visor.

“Watch me,” he said, removing his codpiece. “Or don’t. You have work to do.”

With that he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around. You heard the light hiss as his helmet was unsealed and the soft tap as he sat it in your abandoned chair. You glanced at your chrono and realized you really did have work to do, if you wanted to finish before anyone came looking for you.

Your fingers began moving again, your eyes racing across the screen, as the platforms once again detached from the wall one by one before returning to their bases.

You felt Thorn’s hands at your hips, pushing your pants midway down your thighs.

“No panties?” He mused, a gloved finger swirling around your entrance. “You make it so easy for me, cyar’ika.”

Your movements paused, a platform hung in the air above you, the servos whirring quietly in the empty, cavernous space.

“Keep going,” Thorn ordered, pressing his finger inside you, causing your hips to jerk, as you bit the inside of your cheek.

Taking a deep breath, you resumed your task. The platforms continued their smooth waltz in the air around you even while Thorn pressed his fingers inside you, preparing you to take him like you were at home making dinner.

He ran his free hand up the outside of your thigh, giving your hip a squeeze before continuing up your side and sliding around to your stomach. His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, as his other hand slid up your body to palm your breast through your shirt.

“Look at you go, baby. I’m barely even distracting you. That’s my brilliant girl,” he purred, leaning forward to bite down on the sensitive juncture between your neck and shoulder.

At that your fingers ceased their race across the keys, balling into fists, as an obscene moan rose out of your throat. The sound danced along the walls, ringing clearly in the cavernous space while he sucked and licked at the spot, making you squirm and attempt to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Do you know how good you sound?” Thorn asked, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “I wanna hear my name bouncing off these walls.”

“Fuck, Thorn, please,” you swore under your breath, as he pulled his fingers away.

“Patience.”

He grabbed your hips with both hands, tugging you back towards his body, before sliding one hand up your back between your shoulder blades and pushing down.

You let him position your body as he liked, took a deep breath and resumed your task. You cried out, typing faster, as you felt his cock sliding into you. You clenched around him with a desperate whine.

“Thorn, please,” you begged softly.

“Ask me to fuck you while you work,” He ordered. “I know my brilliant cyare can do both, so ask me.”

“Baby, please,” you whined.

He pulled back and snapped his hips forward, drawing another moan from you.

“Ask.”

“Please, Thorn,” you relented. “Fuck me while I work.”

“With pleasure,” he replied, rolling his hips, as he found a rhythm that brushed that delicious spot inside that made stars flash in your vision.

The obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt, mixed with the soft hum of the servos created your own little chorus. The platforms moved smoothly in a pleasing pattern that traveled around the rotunda. Normally, the pattern would have been satisfying in and of itself, but the sight took a backseat to Thorn’s thigh plates snacking against your bare thighs.

“So wet for me. You’d love it if my squad walked in right now, wouldn’t you?” Thorn teased, as he continued to enjoy your body, reaching around to play with your clit.

You clenched around him, hesitating just a second before resuming.

“Oh, fuck, I felt that, baby. You wanna fuck in front of my men? Want them to see what a perfect little slut you can be?”

“Thorn, please, I’m so close,” you moaned, relieved that you were almost finished.

“I know you are, cyar’ika,” Thorn purred into your ear before nipping at it sharply. “Think you can finish before I make you come?”

You didn’t reply, you simply worked faster, which only triggered Thorn’s competitive instinct. His fingers moved more deliberately against your clit. Firm, smooth circles that had his name floating through the room amongst the platforms.

15 platforms to go.

Thorn shifted the two of you, to thrust into you at a new angle, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stay focused.

10 platforms to go.

His hand left your hip to wrap firmly around your throat again.

5 platforms to go.

“Come for me, baby,” he commanded.

You felt the edge of your bliss, you just had to let go, and give in, but you resisted.

“Now, love,” he said firmly. “Be a good girl, and you can have my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy the rest of the day.”

You couldn’t hold back. You reached back to bury your fingers in his curls, moaning his name, as your orgasm swept through you. A wave of white hot pleasure that had your thighs shaking.

“That’s it baby,” Thorn encouraged, as his own climax caused him to regain his hold on your hips to keep you in place, as he fulfilled his promise. You’d finish your task with his cum filling your cunt, and he’d escort you and your team out of the senate building as it dripped down your thighs.

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @mooncommlink @1vlouds @moonlightwarriorqueen @starqueensthings @dangraccoon @idoubleswearimawriter @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @dreamie411 @nunanuggets @foodmoneyandcats @cdbkake1565

[sw5w]

Droid Control Ship Vuutun Palaa

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:03:19

[green-alm0nd]

[Crosshair x gn!reader]: Bigger picture (part 2)

----

----

Summary:

It's been a few weeks since your breakup with Crosshair, and you should be feeling relieved that nothing is keeping you tied to him, yet you feel empty. It just so happens that you get paired up for a mission, and something happens that will make you change your mind.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR TBB S3, angst, mentions of breakups, Crosshair being described as closed-off, near death experience, comfort, emotions, tension, swearing, fluff.

This is the second part of 'Bigger Picture'.

[Part 1] (Please read if you haven't in order to understand this continuation, thanks ^^)

Enjoy!

----

The Havoc Marauder was busy with noise. Hunter was busy with walking circles and figuring out a plan, Wrecked was lifting Gonky up, Echo was speaking to Rex through his commlink, Omega was being as carefree as ever, and Crosshair was busy checking out Tech's old records.

On the other hand, you were sitting on your barrack, thinking about the past events. And fixing Omega's commlink; but the screwdriver had been stuck in the same place for twenty minutes.

Maybe you had been too harsh. Ever since your argument and 'official breakup' with the sharpshooter, things had been extremely awkward. There was tension left unresolved and the team could feel it. Hunter had had enough of it. He was tired, and maybe a tad annoyed, that you and Crosshair had acted as childish as he had ever seen you two.

Kriff, Omega acted more mature than both you sometimes.

Echo, Wrecker and Omega felt it too. Yet, not as strong as Hunter. Often, Echo and Wrecker would exchange looks when you came up with a snappy, or bitter remark. However, since the argument, you two just acted like the other one didn't exist. Before everything that happened, you refused to look or speak to Crosshair. But, the marksman would always look at you. After the argument, Echo and Wrecker would just give you straight side eyes at all times.

And Omega had felt it too, she felt guilty for forcing you two to speak, asides from convincing Crosshair you would forgive him even though the wound was still fresh.

"Alright." Hunter spoke up, crossing his arms, making everyone's head turn to his direction.

"We're here to try collect some data about Tantiss and its coordinates. We will split up in order to cover more terrain, and remember to keep your comms off. Wrecker, you're with me; Echo, Omega, you two will investigate the right side; and you two-" Hunter said, gaze going from Crosshair to you.

"I don't want to hear any bickering, or any screaming. We're here to help the clones on Tantiss, not to fight over a lover's quarrel. You'll investigate the middle part; Wrecker and I will take the left."

It had been the first time you had heard Hunter so...annoyed. Or tired. Yeah, tired was the right word.

And like that, the squad stepped out of the ship, not giving you time to complain nor protest.

....

Silence was the only thing you heard when you and Crosshair entered the abandoned ship Hunter had insisted on investigating.

The sound of wet footsteps and the cracks of humidity making little water droplets fall, was all that could be heard. Your gazed turned to Crosshair's feet, slightly more tense and awkward than yours.

"Did... uh-Hunter tell you if there were any droids?" You asked, awkwardly.

Crosshair kept walking, avoiding your gaze. He voice was soft, yet distant.

"No. Hunter said to notify everyone if we found anything. If not, we leave and join the other group."

Nodding in response, you figured the conversation had ended.

Upon reaching the control room, you split to try find anything that led to Tantiss. Whether it was intel about the experiments happening in there, or coordinates from where the ship came from, anything was valuable.

You looked around for a while, and your hand ran across one of the old and rusted computers, once a great machine. The layers of dust accumulated on your fingers, and you shook your hands in order to get the particles away from them.

Your mind wandered off to your first mission with Crosshair, that painful yet exciting memory that would be stuck inside your mind until the day you stopped breathing.

You had been assigned to a group of five clones as a medic on a mission, and that's when you locked eyes with the sharpshooter for the first time.

Yeah, he had been a tough shell to crack at first, always so closed off and an infinite list of snarky remarks. However, once you were able to crack his shell, he turned out to be a nice guy, slightly timid sometimes and a hot-headed, stubborn idiot you fell in love with. And yes, he had hurt you in so many ways after he joined the Empire. But he was still that: Crosshair.

It was so sad to think about what you two could have been.

You shook your head, focusing on the present. There was no use in mourning about the past.

"There's nothing here. Let's go." The marksman said, before walking out of the control room. You followed close behind, before you felt no floor beneath you in less than a second.

One of the floor tiles was loose, and you happened to step on it, making time as slow as ever, and feeling like you were floating for a split second.

Crosshair, as sharp as ever, turned around to see a big hole on the floor, and you nowhere close. His mind quickly figured what had happened and ran towards the hole, and saw you hanging on a piece of metal. Panic invaded his mind, the marksman had been too caught up in his own mind to realise that the floor tile was loose.

His senses were overloaded, and he couldn't think straight. The metal piece was barely holding your weight, and you looked at Crosshair with pleading eyes. Fear and anxiety filled your eyes as you felt yourself slipping through the void, and the metal piece falling.

....

Crosshair's mind stopped. He had lost you once again. He let you down. And he hated himself for it.

He remembered your smile, your touch, your fingertips caressing his hand. The marksman had always been closed off, but your lips on his always made him put his guard down. He remembered naked bodies and tangled limbs, tender touches and shared nights under the roof of Kamino.

All the memories flashed before him as his eyes stung with something strange, something new. Tears.

Tears filled his eyes as pain made him clench his heart. No, he refused to lose you again.

He lost you when he decided to join the Empire, he failed to save your sister, and he lost you once again when he fought with you a few weeks ago.

No. He wouldn't lose you again.

....

Before you could slip away, something strong grabbed you, and your whole body rushed with adrenaline.

A strong hand gripped yours before your body could fully fall. You looked up, and saw Crosshair, with a look of pure fear, staring at you, seemingly worried.

The marksman's mouth ran dry, but three words came out of his lips.

"I've got you."

With every ounce of his strength, Crosshair pulled you up.

The sharpshooter was never a fan of hugs, or close contact. He always preferred showing love in other ways, he saw it as being vulnerable. But this time, he let himself be weak, and wrapped you in a hug.

"I've got you." He muttered, even though it's sounded more like he needed to convince himself.

For a moment, everything that made you be angry at him faded away, and you hugged him back. He gripped you tightly, as if making sure you wouldn't suddenly leave his grip.

You stayed like that for a few moments, before your commlink beeped.

"Hey! Are you guys okay? We heard something coming your way!" Echo's voice came through the conmlink.

Crosshair's trembling hand came through the conmlink.

"Yes. There's nothing here. We're heading back, over." He replied, with his usual voice though his entire body was shaking.

....

The way back was quiet, the adrenaline dying down, yet still there as a reminder of what had happened. None of you spoke, and you found yourself unable to breathe.

However, you still felt like you had to thank him.

Your fingers brushed his, a small sparkle igniting your insides, replacing the adrenaline with butterflies instead.

Crosshair didn't bother to look at you, but for a split second, his fingers laces with yours.

But reality struck back, and you pulled away, and the way back to the Marauder was once again quiet.

....

Once again, you found yourself outside the Marauder, the constant memory of what had happened today that had been kept between you and the marksman not letting you sleep.

You leaned on the ships walls, and remembered the way Crosshair's eyes locked with yours, hanging for dear life.

You reminded yourself that Crosshair had definitely thought it through, since he had used his left hand, instead of his right one. He knew his trembling hand would make it worse, and that he could lose you because of it, so he had used his other hand to grab you and save you.

Maybe you should've listened to Omega. Maybe he had changed.

"I figured I would find you here." A voice said, footsteps approaching you.

You turned around to face him. The man who had saved your life.

"I can't sleep. Too much on my head." You replied, curtly.

Crosshair let out a low hum, leaning besides you on the wall of the Marauder.

That façade you had created to get yourself away from the sharpshooter banished when he saved you. You figured there was no point, and that the act of saving you was enough proof that he had changed, and that he deserved a second chance. There was no point in hating him anymore, he had proved himself to be worthy of your kindness. At least, a small bit of it.

"I... guess I- apologize for stuff...that I did. In the past." He awkwardly said, crossing his arms and looking at the ground.

You laughed, it had been a long time since you had seen Crosshair so uncomfortable with himself. He had never apologized, and seeing him cringe at his own words was the best thing that could've happened that day.

"I'm trying to open up, asshole." He replied, going back to his snarky remarks.

You chuckled softly.

"I'm just so proud of you, that you're finally apologising." You remarked, smiling.

"Whatever." He scoffed, turning away.

You stayed quiet for a while, before you spoke up again. It was time to listen to Omega. It was time to give Crosshair a second chance.

It was time to let go.

"Thank you. You really saved me from a tight spot there. And although there's nothing we can do to change the past, maybe, we can re-shape the future." You said, approaching him and kissing his cheek.

"Good night, Cross." You whispered, heading to the ramp.

The marksman froze, and looked at you while you made your way back into the ship.

His face had slightly tinted cheeks, and a small frown formed on his face. Though, it softened quickly.

Maybe, it had been a reflex. But Crosshair was relieved you decided to trust in him once more.

And like that, he said goodbye to the dark night, and welcomed in the warm air of the engine of the Havoc Marauder.

----

Whew! I finally finished this one! Make sure you check out part 1 in case you haven't!

My requests are open!

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated! <33

[contentment-of-cats]

New fic bit: Long Live the Empire

Leia looks out at the massed Imperial fleet, the remains of the Fifth Fleet and a major victory to obtain their surrender. The Republic forces are massed in a show of strength, the coverage by holonews blanketing the media. Grand Admiral Danner Ashbrough brought 500 ISD and smaller ships with him out of the 5,000 he once commanded. He and the senior officers' agreed to stand trial for war crimes, and those junior officers and enlisted with him would enter reorientation and amnesty programs. For now, the meeting will seal the agreement and handle the nuts and bolts. Ashbrough is pleasant, if oddly distant.

"I'm aware not everyone came with you, Grand Admiral." Leia studies the man's face. Most officers at flag rank have sabacc faces that rivals a duracrete wall for lack of expression.

"It is good that you are aware." The man could be standing in the Allisandre's ballroom, holding a glass of Chandrilan sparkle-wine. "I made this voluntary. Those who wished to leave were dispersed to other fleets."

"The Third, Seventh, and Eleventh?" Three thorns in the foot of the Republic with an estimated strength of 10,000 ISD class, at least four Supers, and thousands of smaller ships. "We'd appreciate some help with that. Mitigate your crimes with helpful information."

A small, polite smile. "We don't speak to them often, but they agreed to take in the die-hards."

Leia reaches out with the Force and encounters something like a shield around the man's mind. Luke, in her field of vision, looks puzzled and shakes his head. A text appeares on her datapad.

It's as if every mind on those ships is Jedi-proofed. Music, mathematics, even building model landspeeders.

"Grand Admiral Faro heads the Eleventh, I presume, with Marinth as Grand Admiral of the Seventh's remains." Now to pry open a vault. "I have intel that an officer named Pyrondi has the Third."

Something itches at the back of her mind and she glances at the battle computer to her left. All the Imps have their weapons powered down, hyperdrives offline, as agreed.

"Indeed?" Left unsaid that she was a protege of Grand Admiral Thrawn - like Rear Admiral Hammerly, Commodore Barlin, and others who formed a nucleus of the Trident Fleet. "Thrawn was said to have sent a core of officers with Faro and when she transferred."

"There's nothing on her. Her entire file is redacted. Not even a date of birth or a Homeworld."

"I met her briefly, once, at the Ascension Week games when I was still a Rear Admiral. I am afraid she did not make any disclosures to me. However, you may find the reasons in the Archives of the Senate, under seal."

They can't access and he doesn't need to know that. A COMPNOR general's dying act was to make the archives for every agency down to vermin control inaccessible. Threepio's estimate was that it would take at least a century to slice, and that would be with top slicing droids working nonstop. It could easily take one thousand years as they did not know how many placements the lock had.

"There are things that not even Grand Admirals can unlock. However, I was alive when the reason for the redaction happened. The heart of it was your friend Saw Gerrera." That small smile again. "Pyrondi will have to answer for herself."

"Saw Gerrera was nobody's friend."

"He was, long ago, an ally of your parents." A fleeting smile, more of a quirk of the lips. "I can tell you that if he is alive, he will very much wish not to be if Pyrondi finds him."

"He's dead."

"So you say. However, Pyrondi will look for him until she turns up his body or his bones. I was there to evacuate the world he destroyed so completely that not even decay will come to the dead. The body count of Jegsziv totaled an estimated two billion with less than half a million survivors." That smile again, wider. Leia wishes she could see his eyes under the bill of his kepi. "Rhydonium gas released from an well on the sea floor - an act of terrorism and sabotage that killed half a world in their beds and choked the rest to death on their own blood."

"I've never heard of it." The itch is stronger, almost a burning. A glance at Luke shows he can feel something, too. "Where is it located?"

"Well, secrets take time to uncover, but the truth always comes out. I do hope that you will meet her one day. Until that day and after it - long may she serve, and long live the Empire."

The white flash is soundless, but the shock wave and the onslaught of molten durasteel impacts the Republic ships in seconds. The Imperials caused their cores to go critical, igniting hundreds of mini novas, obliterating most of the Republic fleet in the space of a blink and a breath.

[thechaoticfanartist]

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

no excuses writing meme

Hi okay so this got away from me. Anyway enjoy some Grim & Obi-Wan angst from the new version of As Long As There's Light:

"You know between his howling and your blasting it's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here!" Luke snapped at Han as he took off his stolen helmet.

"It really is. What if someone had spotted you? I mean you are harboring two wanted droids, a wookie, and an infamous Jedi Master," remarked a stormtrooper who had apparently followed them. She crossed her arms in an almost familiar manner.

Han and Luke immediately turned around and pointed their blasters at her. Although Obi-Wan was reluctant to draw his weapon. Even though the helmet covered her face the comment she had made, alongside her behavior instantly gave her away. As if her Force signature didn't already. Even if it had been sixteen years since they had last seen each other.

With two weapons pointed directly at her she calmly raised her hands in surrender, taking off her helmet as she did so. There was zero doubt about who she was now. "Grim," Obi-Wan sighed.

Luke and Solo shared a confused glance. "You know her?" Han demanded.

"I do," he replied calmly. "It's alright, she's an old friend."

She smiled at him warmly. An expression he hadn't seen on her for longer than they had been apart. "Thank you, Master," she replied. Her face then fell as her brows furrowed together. There was a concerned glint in her eye that he was far too familiar with. "What happened to you?"

It took Obi-Wan a moment to understand what she was talking about. He noticed that she was looking at the right side of his face. This only confused him, surely it would have been something she had seen. He touched his burn scars lightly, frowning at his former Padawan. "You mean you don't know?" He lowered his hand, bringing it back to rest at his side. It didn't make sense to him how Grim didn't know about his encounter with Vader. "Nevermind, that's in the past." They had more pressing matters anyway. "What are you doing here, little one?"

Before she could answer Threepio spoke up. "I don't mean to interrupt, however we found the computer outlet."

It was back to the mission then. Obi-Wan turned around and instructed the droids. "Plug in. He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network."

Artoo followed his directions as Threepio translated for him. “He says he’s found the controls to the power beam that’s holding your ships here. He’ll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor." Just as he said that the images appeared on screen. "The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow your ships to leave.”

He nodded. "Well, I don't think you boys can help me," Obi-Wan informed the two. His attention then turned towards his daughter. He saw the look in her eyes, he had seen it before when she knew death was coming. Now she looked at him with this same expression. "Grim, we both know I have to do this on my own."

She bowed her head. "I don't care. I want to go with you."

"I do too!" Luke proclaimed.

He looked at the two of them and smiled sadly. For a small moment it was as if he was with his Padawans in The Clone Wars again, before the war had taken its turn for the worst. But that had been a long time ago. "Be patient, the both of you. I need you to watch over the droids — and each other. These droids must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Both your destines lie along different paths than mine." He knew in that moment that it would be Grim who would complete Luke's training. He turned to him and gave his last Padawan a final reminder. "The Force will be with you, always."

With those words he began to leave to disable the tractor beams. However as he was walking away Grim shouted behind him. "No!" He paused and turned around to see his daughter barely able to keep herself composed. "No!" She snapped. "You don't get to do this, dad! You want to know what I'm doing here? I came here for you! Don't tell me I get to see you again after sixteen years only to lose you again…." She trailed off as a choked sob escaped.

His face softened and he walked back over to her. "I'm sorry, my dear. I think we both know what's going to happen. You can't save me. But…there are others who need you. Luke is going to need you."

She looked up at him with teary eyes. A sight he wished he wasn't so familiar with. "But I need you," she told him. She nearly sounded like the child he found on that battlefield all those years ago.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "No, you don't. You haven't needed me for a long time."

With those words she suddenly pulled him into a hug. Her hands gripped onto his cloak tightly as she began to cry into his shoulder. Obi-Wan's heart ached, they hadn't hugged in so long, and he knew it would be their last. They both knew it. He moved his arms and embraced her. He held her as her whole body shook with the weight of a grief she had let burden her for too long. There was no need for words. He simply held her as if they were back in The Clone Wars. And for a small moment it didn't matter that it had been sixteen years since they had last seen each other. It didn't even matter that they were on an Imperial space station.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at last as she let go of him and stepped away. Obi-Wan did the same.

"I'm sorry, too," he replied. Neither of them had to say what they were apologizing for. "Goodbye Grim."

"Goodbye dad."

With that he turned away. He had a mission — a mission he knew he would not survive.

[master-ray5]

The King's (Chibi) Crisis

While I plan on posting something bigger tomorrow for Usamamo Week 2024 (run by @random-mailbox and @lilliebellfanfics), I decided to use the prompt for "Free Day" to finally post something I have had in mind for a while. I'm putting in my "Innocent Royal Affairs" series but the prompt helped me finally get it down on paper. Links first but then I'll post the whole fic underneath:

     “ACHOO!” 

     Mamoru’s eyes went wide and he jumped out of bed as the sound came over the baby monitor. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure his wife was safe before he ran out the room, across the hall, and into the nursery. Mamoru was by the crib of Princess Chiba-Usa in record time. He opened a drawer, pulled out digital medical gloves, and ran a complete diagnosis by scanning his daughter. 

HR: Normal

BP: 95/58

Temp: 100.1

    “Dear lord,” Mamoru gasped as he read the results. “Computer, open a channel to the family of wisdom.” 

     “Boss,” Zoisite grumbled as he answered the call, slowly rousing. “It’s late. What’s wrong?” 

     “Chibi-Usa is ill,” Mamoru reported firmly. 

     “What’s her symptoms,” Ami asked, as she sat up in bed next to Zoisite when she heard Mamoru’s words. “What’s wrong with the little princess?” 

     “She has a 100.1 fever and is sniffling,” Mamoru explained, his eyes darting from the results to his daughter and back multiple times. “She’s sleeping peacefully now.” 

     “So let me get this straight?” Zoisite groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She has her first cold?”

     “Yes! I want a full workout to make sure it's not magic related,” Mamoru ordered, a plan forming in his head. “I want you to run a comparison on the database of all known youmas, droids, and known monster types. I need to make sure she hasn’t been poisoned in someway” 

     Zoisite exchanged a look with his wife before he responded. “I’m hanging up now.” 

     “What?” Mamoru grunted, his body becoming tense at his friend’s response. “My daughter is sick. She needs a complete diagnosis.” 

     “Mamoru,” Ami sighed as she laid her head down on her pillow. “You are a former doctor, so you are blessed with an abundance of information. You need to get a handle on it or it will consume you.” 

     “That being said my wife needs her own sleep for the baby she’s carrying,” Zoisite sighed as his hand reached out and caressed Ami’s stomach. “Just get a washcloth, dab her head, and try to get some rest.”

     “What about,” Mamoru countered but the line went dead. “Hello? Damn it! Computer, dial the family of strength.” 

     “Mmmhuhm,” Nephrite grumbled as the call connected. “Wuh, wuzzup?” 

     “My daughter is displaying a low grade fever,” Mamoru reported, his eyes locked on Chibi-Usa’s vitals. “Have there been any anomalies sighted in the area in the last few days?” 

     “Numh, Mumuh,” Makoto replied in something between a snort, yawn, and a groan. “Mmm.” 

     “I want you to get to the control room and do a full city wide search to make sure there are no disturbances,” Mamoru commanded. “If you run every scan possible it should only take like…5 hours.” 

     A loud crunching sound came through the speaker which Mamoru could only assume was Nephrite destroying his communicator again. The replacement he received would be the 4th one this year alone. Mamoru intended on making sure they came out of his paycheck. 

     Chibi-usa grumbled and began to roll in her sleep causing Mamoru’s heart to clench. She was uncomfortable he could tell and he wanted to make sure everything was fine with her. He immediately dialed the next group in his contact. 

     "Jadeite,” Mamoru called when his general picked up. “I need you to hit the library. I want you to look through all the research materials and see if a minor fever may be related to any known curse."

     “I’ve got a curse I can show him,” Rei hissed before turning over and pulling a pillow over her head. 

     “Boss, you need to calm down,” Jadeite insisted, picking up his communicator to talk into it properly. His other hand reached over and stroked his wife’s back affectionately. “Zoisite already messaged everyone and let us know you are freaking out and overreacting. I’m going to turn off my communicator now and nothing short of a Class Five, world ending disaster is going to turn it back on.” 

     “I am not freaking out or overreacting,” Mamoru stated firmly. “Now come make sure my baby hasn’t been cursed by a demon or I will banish you to the frigid depths of space.” 

     “Good night Mamoru,” Jadeite replied before ending the call. Mamoru felt his entire body tense from the lack of respect he was receiving. 

     "What the hell? Call the family of leaders,” Mamoru ordered the computer. “Kunzite I want…"

    “Damn it Mamoru!” Minako roared. Not through the communicator but instead her voice carried from her and Kunzite’s wing of the castle. “It’s three in the morning! Some of us are trying to have sex!” 

     “Blast it all,” Mamoru roared as he turned towards the door and began to head towards pulling all of his generals out of bed by their hair. “I swear when I get a hold of them….” 

     Mamoru stopped as the door to the nursery opened and his wife came in with a sleepy look in her eyes. 

     “I can hear you through the baby monitor.” Usagi yawned as she moved past her husband and towards the cradle. “You‘re freaking everyone out.”

     “But Usa…,” Mamoru stumbled, his mind still going a mile a minute. “Chibi-Usa could have been poisoned by a demon, cursed by a youma, or…” 

     “Or maybe she caught a cold when we took her out for a ride in the stroller,” Usagi suggested as she placed the washcloth she had brought in against her daughter’s warm head. She picked up her tiny daughter and sat in the rocking chair close by. “She’s going to be fine Mamo. Calm down.” 

     “But…,,” Mamoru struggled, his mind overwhelmed with all the possibilities of everything terrible fate which could befall his baby. “She’s…”

     “It’s okay little one,” Usagi sang to her daughter as she began rocking her. With her hair down nursing their daughter back to health and wearing her white nightgown, Mamoru thought his wife looked like an angel. He often thought of her as such but moments like this made it even harder for him to think she was absolutely sent from heaven. “Daddy is just being silly.”

     “I’m just…,” Mamoru stopped as he watched how Chibi-Usa stopped fusing as she was rocked back to sleep. His gaze dropped to the med gloves he was still wearing and a smile formed on his face as he realized just how foolish he had been acting. “You’re right…daddy is just being silly.”

O.O.O

Come back tomorrow when my first Non-Senshi AU story finally drops. It's a nice light read clocking in at...11k!!