#Stick war: order empire

[incredible-sugar-venus]

Me: “The fandom isn’t that bad and stupid!”

The fandom in question:

[bowlerhatwearer]

I honestly would be very interested in a Star Wars Story/Movie which takes places solely in Coruscant, mostly in the underground and which from the genre is a hardboiled/noir tale.

[gwarden123]

I still don’t... There’s something I don’t like about the way enemies are grouped and move around the map, particularly the soldiers, particularly in their own bases. I don’t know. It’s not like the enemy placement in any of the other Dark Forces or similar games were all that realistic. They just didn’t feel quite so like they were dropped at random across the map. Only a few of them have any kind of patrol path too, so the bulk of them are just standing there waiting for you to come close enough to attack them. I think maybe the lack of officers doesn’t help either, again, particularly on bases. It’s like only enlisted men exist. And the occasional lone special operative who is just there and isn’t coordinating with other forces to achieve a defined goal. I don’t know. I’m nitpicking, I guess. It just doesn’t feel like a real place. It doesn’t feel lived in.

[angel-sweets666]

stuck together

Barbarian bakugo x princess! Reader

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. CHAPTER TWO HERE

warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff.

THE FULL VERSION IS OUTTT, truely ask and you shall receive. Anyways this is the full edited and lengthened part one I hope it’s better then the sneak peak I gave you guys

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Flamoria had a habit of attacking your home kingdom, however in recent years the bakugos have managed to not only defeat the todorokis but make their kingdom subservient to them.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno���"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper which already had both mitsuki and masarus names written down. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own squeaky wooden chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me. Brutally, he’s gonna hack off my head just you watch”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, faked illness, and came up elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were stubborn, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes gloomy with pity . "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk to the carriage by the gate as your mother sobbed into your fathers chest.

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy but covered in tall trees landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls. You swore that if you listened close enough you could hear peoples screams in the dungeons below. Fuck was this hell with its 7 rings?

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. He was busy looking at a sheet of paper, the one oddly similar to the ones your parents shown you when they first announced your betrothal to bakugo. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. He looked almost angry at you, furious even. Which was confusing because you’ve known this man for a whole 10 seconds

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and piercings on his ears and lip.

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance. Katsuki had a deep voice that you couldn’t tell if you found attractive or if you wanted to run away and hide.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady but it ended up sounding shaky.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors. His steps much louder then yours due to his much larger frame

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way or else," he said, theblonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids, you even went the effort to fire atleast 4 of them to keep their grotty hands to themselves.

“you done firing my staff now?” Bakugo grumbled as he caught up with you in the stone candle lit halls “your staff? You mean my staff? My staff who you seem to love flirting with” you corrected him, looking over your shoulder at him. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed “I pay for them there for their my staff.” He growled, asking faster in an attempt to intimate you “actually, your parents pay for the staff.” “Hah?” “Your parent pay for the staff so their not your staff, their the palaces staff.” You said ignorantly as you played with the lace of your dress. “You gonna get out of that frill fest you call a gown?” He asked, again trying to insult you “if I do I’m gonna shove it up your ass” “excuse me?”

“Want me to say it slower? I—WILL—SHOVE—MY—GOW”

“OKAY OKAY SHUT UP WOMAN” he growled at you and walked off in spite “THATS WHAT WHAT I THOUGHT. THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.” You angrily yelled back to him, which in real aspect you were yelling at the back of his ignorant head. You huffed and stormed away in the opposite direction as you wanted nothing more then to get away from that man. As you stomped down the halls, footsteps echoing with each step; you heard a male voice call out to you

“Princess.”

you looked over, a certain brown haired man similar looking to katsuki stared back at you. It was king Masaru “I was looking for you” he says, walking towards you. You quickly curtsied to the king “About what?” You asked “we have a wedding date for you and my son” he smiled warmly as if this was a good thing “o-oh.. and when may that be..?” Your eyebrows furrowed with frustration “a month from now, they will date you to get your gown fitted this week” he seemed overly happy about something neither you or his temperamental son wanted.

“Will I wear a wedding dress from my country or your country?” You asked softly, trying to keep your cool “uh.. our country.” He informed you “I’d rather wear my own wedding gown though, your majesty” “well.. you belong to our kingdom now. We can give you a dress that’s a mix of the two if you’d rather” he compromised, trying to keep with both your and his kingdom. Letting out a sigh your shoulders dropped “I suppose that be okay…” a look of mild disappointment on your face “wonderful, I’m glad we could come to a compromise” he smiled and walked off, an electric blonde guard following close behind him who you earlier learned his name was kaminari. The blonde goofily smiled to you, he seemed like a character. The two men walked off as they chatted, rolling your eyes you too began to walk in the direction of your bedroom chambers.

you couldn’t sleep that night, you tried changing your nightgown, exercising, reading a book, meditating, everything! nothing would help you sleep this night, you wondered if it was the weird interaction with king Masaru or the fact your own fiance was when you think about it was cheating on you with your own staff members. you slowly slid out of bed and out of your silk sheets, rubbing your face up and down with your hands with frustration. Looking down at your feet you sighed, looking out of the window. the night sky was so peaceful unlike your mind which was running with less the pleasant thoughts. How could you get Katsuki to like you? or at least tolerate you in some way so he wouldn't be the most annoying little shit.

The creak of the door hinges squeaks as you pushed the heavy wooden door open, wincing at the high pitch noise. Slowly but quietly gou walked towards the chambers of your future husband. As you approached the door you hear two voices come from the inside

“you’ll need to learn to cherish and care for her eventually”

“why would I do that?” “She is your fiancé! Your future wife! Future mother of your heirs!”

“you except me to fuck her too? Shit.”

“Yes obviously! Your gonna need heirs for our kingdom!”

“fine. Before or after this whole wedding?”

“well In her kingdom, you two do that on the wedding night but to be honest I don’t really care when you do her”

“Too easy”

safe to say your whole face was pink, with either anger or arousal but you couldn’t tell

Tag list!

@sagejin @teeesthings @hiimsaraandyou

@peachysuguru @luvgumii

@v3n7s @iangeeluv

[theoi-crow]

The humans in Greek Mythology are the mega rich and powerful:

In my college classes people are often shocked when I tell them my favorite part of Greek mythology is the gods themselves and I'm not a big fan of the humans.

99% of my classmates prefer the humans in mythos, especially the ones that stick it to the gods like Sisyphus and feel bad for humans like Kassandra and Helen who have been wronged by the gods because "they're just like us." My classmates and teachers hate the gods and don't understand why anyone in modern times would want to worship such violent and selfish beings whenever I point out there are still people who worship them. They hold onto the idea that people in mythology embody the human experience of being oppressed by terrible gods and fate and we should feel bad for them because "they're human just like us" but they forget that the people in Greek Mythology are NOT just like us. They are more relatable to medieval royalty, colonizers and ultra rich politicians who make laws and decisions on wars and the fates of others, especially the poor and the very vulnerable.

Every hero or important human in Greek Mythology is either some form of royalty or mega rich politician/priest-priestess (of course this is with the exception of people who are explicitly stated to be poor like the old married couple in the myth where Zeus and Hermes pretend to be panhandlers). All of them have an ancient Greek lifestyle more relatable to Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and especially to British royalty during the British empire, than the average person.

All of them.

Odysseus, Patroclus, Theseus, Helen of Troy, Kassandra, Diomedes, Agamemnon, Perseus, Hercules, Aeneas, Paris, Any human who has a divine parent or is related to one, etc. Although sometimes the story omits it, it is heavily implied that these are people who own hundreds or even thousands of slaves, very poor farmers and the tiny barely there working class as royal subjects.

They are the ones who make laws and whose decisions massively affect the fates of so many people. So no, they can't just be forgiven for some little whim, because that little whim affects the literal lives of everyone under their rule. By being spoiled they've just risked the lives of thousands of people and possibly even gotten them killed like when Odysseus' audacity got every single slave and soldier in his ships killed or when Patroclus as a kid got upset and killed another kid for beating him at a game. (A normal person wouldn't kill another person just for winning a game but royalty and those who think they're above the law do it all the time, plus the class status of the child wasn't mentioned but the way he didn't think he'd get in trouble implies the kid was of lower class, possibly the child of a slave or a foreign merchant.)

The gods get a bad reputation for punishing the humans in mythology but, if not them, who else is going to keep them accountable when they are the law?

And whose to say the humans beneath them weren't praying to the gods in order to keep their masters in check?

Apollo is the god in charge of freeing slaves, Zeus is the god of refugees, immigrants and homeless people, Ares is the protector of women, Artemis protects children, Aphrodite is the goddess of the LGBT community, Hephaestus takes care of the disabled, etc. It wouldn't be surprising if the gods are punishing the ultra rich and powerful in these myths because the humans under their rulership prayed and sent them as they did historically.

Every time someone asks me if I feel bad for a human character in a myth, I think about the many lives affected by the decision that one human character made and if I'm being completely honest, I too would pray to the gods and ask them to please punish them so they can make more careful decisions in the future because:

They are not just like us.

We are the farmers, a lot of our ancestors were slaves, we are the vulnerable being eaten by capitalism and destroyed by the violence colonialism created. We are the poor subjects that can only pray and hope the gods will come and correct whatever selfish behavior the royal house and mega rich politicians are doing above us.

And that's why I pray to the gods, because in modern times I'm dealing with modern Agamemnons who would kill whatever family members they have to in order to reach their end goal, I'm dealing with everyday modern Achilles who would rather see their own side die because they couldn't keep their favorite toy and would gladly watch their subjects die if it means they eventually get their way. The ones that let capitalism eat their country and it's citizens alive so long as it makes them more money. These are our modern "demigods," politicians who swear they are so close to God that they know what he wants and so they pass laws that benefit only them and claim these laws are ordained by God due to their close connection just like how Achilles can speak to the gods because of his demigod status via his mother.

Look at the news, these are humans that would be mythical characters getting punished by Greek gods which is why anything Greco-Roman is jealousy guarded by the rich and powerful and is inaccessible to modern worshippers because Ivy League schools like Harvard and Cambridge make sure to keep it that way. That's what we're dealing with. These are the humans these mythical beings would be because:

In our modern times the humans in mythos would be the politicians and mega rich that are currently ruining our society and trying to turn it into a world where only the rich can manipulate wars and laws, just like they do in mythology.

Fuck them.

I literally have so much more to add about my disdain for them and I didn't even touch on the obvious ancient Greek propaganda.

[sollis-occasum]

you think i'm gone 'cause i left - anakin skywalker/darth vader x fem!jedi!reader (part 2 of 3)

a/n: you can read it as a stand-alone ♡

summary: when a ghost born from his past regrets returns to haunt him, darth vader has no choice but to confront it.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, blood, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of sex (no smut), reader is manipulating darth vader (but in a girlboss way), darth vader and darth sidious are their own warnings, no proofread, my english is the biggest warning.

word count: 2k

part 1

Darth Vader, who made the galaxy tremble with fear just by the idea of ​​his existence, had subdued leaders who were said to never bow down, destroyed kingdoms that were said to never be destroyed, and made even the proudest warriors beg for mercy. Ironically, the only person who could bring this Sith Lord, who struck fear into every beating heart, to his knees was the ghost of a woman whose heart had stopped years ago.

Was his master manipulating his thoughts to create an illusion of you in order to punish his failures? Or were you the reflection of a ghost trapped in this world because the parts of his soul that belonged to Anakin Skywalker were not ready to let you go?

Darth Vader had no answers to these questions. If there was one thing he knew, it was that you were haunting him and that you would not let go until his heart, which had become a mass that did nothing but pump blood, was numb and torn apart with pain and regret.

Your presence wasn't always this disturbing to be honest, at first he was taking a pleasure in seeing you that he couldn't even admit to himself. You were looking at him with a magnificent light in your eyes that even the greatest massacres and most brutal executions you had ever witnessed couldn't extinguish, you were smiling at him affectionately as if the man in front of you wasn't a war criminal but the little boy you entrusted your lightsaber to. Sometimes he felt a shiver as if you were running your hands over his armored shoulders, and this sweet feeling that covered his entire body reminded him of the times you spent together. Perhaps it was  your presence mixed with the air he breathed that prevented Darth Vader from taking complete control...

However, with each passing day in the empire of fear he and his master had established; with every innocent person he ruthlessly killed, with every enemy he tortured with disregard for their honor in the hope of getting information about his plans, the mask that had become the symbol of brutality was sticking more to the face underneath and his new identity was taking over him

While his burnt, torn body was trapped in an armor, the only thing that gave him a sense of freedom  was his memories of you. But they began to fade one by one, leaving nothing but the memory of your bloody body being dragged by a clone soldier. Your first meeting at the temple, the first time he held you in his arms at the weapons factory that had become a battlefield, the exchange of your lightsabers, the first mission you officially went on together, the first moment he realized he liked you, the first kiss you shared, the first night you spent together... All of them were so distant now.

Maybe that was why your ghost had also slowly begun to change. Your reflection no longer radiated the noble glow it had when you first appeared; your image was more colorless, paler. The sweet feeling he felt when you appeared had been replaced by a pain like an ice burn. You weren't even smiling. A disgusted expression that you only reserved for the most vicious criminals in the galaxy appeared on your face. Especially those eyes... Darth Vader had never seen even his greatest enemy look at him with such devastating hatred.

"You killed me," you said with great anger. "You are responsible for my death!"

Darth Vader had tried everything not to witness those words that had been echoing in his mind for years coming out of your lips. He had told you to leave, tried to ignore you, used the force to disperse your reflection... But you weren't leaving! No matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of you. Finally, he was about to ask his master for help, even if it meant enduring his punishment for being weak, when you asked a question he couldn't leave unanswered.

"Where's my lightsaber, Anakin?"

You were in the throne room of his fortress on Mustafar. Darth Vader was thinking deeply, leaning his arm on the edge of his throne and leaning his helmet on his hands, when he heard your hysterical voice. He reached for his lightsaber as a reflex, but he also knew that the only enemy who could stand against his saber, which was red as if referring to the blood he had shed, was you.

"Anakin... A name I haven't heard in a long time," he said with his robotic voice hiding his emotions. But he also knew that he couldn't hide his feelings from you. You knew his deepest desires and fears. You might have been living in different bodies, but you two were the same person.

You smiled mockingly as if he was a buffoon instead of a commander who had the galaxy wrapped around his finger. "You didn't think I would call you by that funny name your master gave you, did you? Please don't take offense, but you have the stupidest name out of all the Sith Lords."

"How dare you!?" he roared, raising his hand into the air and trying to throw you to the other side of the room with the help of the force, but nothing happened. You continued to stand tall. Apparently, even the force couldn't harm those who didn't belong in the world of the living.

"Do you really think you can get rid of me like that? It's surprising that a ruthless Lord like you can have such naive ideas."

Although you emphasized the word ruthless, an expression appeared on your face as if the anger of the man in front of you amused you.

"What are you and what do you want from me?"

You slowly shrugged your shoulders and started to wander around the throne room. Sometimes you would delicately run your fingers over the objects in the room and sometimes you would go behind the throne and watch the hellish view of Mustafar. There was a silence that Darth Vader, even the most fearless man in the universe, did not dare to break. Finally, you answered the question in a low voice, "Only you can know the answer." Obviously, the answer you gave was not satisfactory for you either.

"I could be your guilt or your regret. Maybe I am your remorse that you cannot silence. Who knows?"

"Nonsense." Darth Vader snapped. "I have no regrets about the past. Such feelings are only excuses for those who are weak enough to succumb to them."

"You may not have it, but Anakin Skywalker does. Maybe that's why you can't defeat him. The remnants of him you can't destroy are suffering, right? Even if you block your ears, you can hear his screams. The more you try to suppress him, the more he finds ways to survive. Look, his pain has created me: the only enemy you can't defeat."

"Shut up! You're not real!"

In a sudden move, he took his lightsaber and tried to separate your head from your body, but your reflection only waved for a few seconds.

"That's what I meant when I said the only enemy you can't defeat." You said with an exasperated tone and rolled your eyes. "Anyway, you've asked enough questions. Now answer my question. Where's my lightsaber?"

"Obi-Wan took it." he said with great passion. His hands clenched involuntarily as he said his former master's name. Even his robotic voice couldn't hide his hatred.

"Ah, I see. So you couldn't protect it. What a shame, it really was a beautiful lightsaber."

You slowly walked towards the throne and sat on the armrest. You tried to keep a sad expression, but it was obvious that the commander’s failures were amusing you. You began to gently run your hands over his shoulders. Even the touch of your abstract presence was enough to soothe him. You could feel him relax under his armor.

“I didn’t think you would give up the only thing I had left so easily.”

“We made a deal. First I saved your life, then you saved mine. After you paid your debt to me, I had no reason to protect the lightsaber.”

"So you're saying that our only bond was some stupid pact we made when we were kids? That the lies we told our masters just so we could spend time together, the kisses we shared, the nights we spent together meant nothing? Don't expect me to believe that, Anakin. If I were truly that worthless to you, you wouldn't have built this fortress on Mustafar as a monument to your failures, you wouldn't have found every clone trooper there that day and tortured them all to death, and most importantly, you wouldn't have sold your soul to your new master in order to save me."

Without waiting for him to respond, you removed your hands from his shoulders and gripped his chin tightly. Technically, you had no power over him, and your fingers had even passed through his mask, but Darth Vader had surrendered to you so much that he lifted his head slightly, just as you wished he would.

"Do you know what I'm actually thinking? Maybe your desire to be Palpatine's toy has nothing to do with me, Skywalker. You turned to the dark side to save me, didn't you? Nonsense! You were just looking for a new master, that's all."

These were words that were too degrading and humiliating for a Sith Lord like him, who was used to being feared and obeyed. He rose from his throne in a sudden movement and held his hands out to you. He knew that he could not harm you, but for the first time, he felt that his anger was harming him, not powering him. He had to do something to get rid of you! However, his desperate efforts to catch you were only making you laugh.

You sat down comfortably on the throne that was vacated by him and crossed your legs with confidence. Your hands were gripping the throne on either side as if you were its rightful owner.

"Look, you can't even sit on the throne, Anakin," you said. "How pathetic."

"The men your master has given you, or that stupid word added to your new name, mean nothing. No matter how much you deny it, you are nothing but a slave. When you were a child, you belonged to Watto, now you belong to Sidious."

Darth Vader clenched his hands into fists and held them up to his face, "I rule the galaxy," he shouted at you. But his voice was weaker, more insecure. You continued, enjoying the pleasure of hitting him in his most sensitive spot.

"No, your master rules the galaxy. You are merely one of his insignificant, dispensable puppets. You have no free will, you still have the soul of a slave. You need others to control you in order to survive. In the past, you needed Obi-Wan and my approval, now you look to your master for help. Because you destroyed everyone who ever cared for you for nothing, and no one else has accepted the monster your sins have created."

"Why are you punishing me like this?"

You had finally done it! The most powerful man in the galaxy, that magnificent figure who bowed to no one but his master, was now kneeling in front of you, his hands on his helmet as if to silence the thoughts in his mind. He was trying to stop Anakin Skywalker, whom he thought he had killed years ago, from taking control with the strength he got from your screams, but he couldn't.

"I am not punishing you, Ani. You are doing this to yourself. Do you want to get rid of me? Then go and avenge me. Make your crimes have meaning. You know who your enemy is."

tags: @circe143 @snowtargaryen @etheriaaly @ariskywlkr @tellybearryyyy @anisgurll

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I'm reading Ghost in the Shell right now and Tom just mentioned the lengths the yeerks had to go to in order to keep morph-capable controllers in line during feedings. I know you went into this in more detail during the last fic in the series as well, but I wanted to ask: is there a canon reason the yeerks couldn't just have fewer hosts than yeerks, and stick a 'temp' yeerk in the host's brain while the usual one is feeding?

I can think of some plausible reasons (host's brain needs time off to recover, yeerks can't switch hosts very often without difficulty, cultural objections to sharing bodies with their fellow slugs) and also meta reasons (more angst potential, more interesting this way). But I'm curious what your take on this is. I can't remember if they ever addressed it in-series

Oooooohh. I like this idea, and I would love to see it explored. If Yeerk One inches sloooowly out of the left ear as Yeerk Two inches into the right, then you're right that there could be almost no lag time at all between yeerks. For the morpher hosts especially, that would be dead useful.

Doylist (out-of-universe) speaking, I think we don't see this in canon because we need to see the horror of what the yeerks are doing to their hosts. And if hosts have 0m0s of ability to express what's going on with them, then it runs the risk of seeming like no big deal. Or like there's no meaningful difference between the voluntary hosts and the involuntary ones.

Watsonian (in-universe) speaking, I assume it's not used because of issues of privacy and — let's be honest — corruption. If Eeek 1234 is inside Alloran for a few minutes every time Visser Three needs to feed, then suddenly some random yeerk knows every one of Visser Three's secrets that Alloran knows. Eva knowing about Edriss's human kids gives her tremendous power over Visser One, and Eva's knowledge of the Empire later proves instrumental in the Animorphs winning the war. If some other yeerk is inside of Eva, then that yeerk has that level of intel and power over Visser One too.

[furious-blueberry0]

Are there people out there that really think that Star Wars is too political? And say that as if it is a flaw?

Like, I’m sorry, but did people seriously look at a saga literally named Star WARS and manage to complain about the fact that it has politics? Did these people watch the movies and only saw the lightsabers, the cool music and the pew pews? Is that all their brain could comprehend?

I’m not saying that you can’t do that, if you want to look at the fun side of the saga only than good for you, but using the argument of “too much politics” and make it the flaw of the story is so stupid.

Like that’s the point, THAT’S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT.

George Lucas didn’t just make a story of a good guy vs a bad guy, he made a story where a Republic, a just system that has become corrupted to its core, finds itself into a devastating war and is pushed to its limit by a slimy and disgusting scheming bastard (inspired by George Bush), who then uses its weakness to take control of it and transform it, from a free system to a fascist dictatorship (inspired by Nazi Germany and the USA of the Vietnam war) and whose one of the first things he does is a literal genocide and ethnical cleansing of a religious order.

And this is only the Prequels, because in the OT the story is about how this Empire, whose head and right hand are literally the most powerful beings in the galaxy, gets utterly destroyed not by other powerful beings, not by superpowers, not by mystical forces that the human mind can’t comprehend.

But by people, normal people, the average person, who can’t fly, who can’t use mystical objects, who cannot move things with the mind or other tricks.

The heroes of these movies are the rebels, who are not fighting because of some ancient prophecy, or because of a quest given by mystical beings, or because they have to restore the fabric of the Universe, they fight because it’s the right thing to do, because this is what happens when you take away freedom from people, when you destroy their homes, when you kill their loved ones, when you obliterate everything they have ever known and loved.

Treat people like animals and they’ll react like animals, by biting the hand that carries the stick and then ripping it into shreds.

And yes, Luke is the hero that saves the day by killing Sidious and Vader, but he would have never, and I say NEVER have arrived at that point without the help of the Rebellion, it’s something that no one could have ever done alone, a single individual against an entire Empire is a suicide, no matter how powerful you are.

And I love it. I don’t even know how to put it into words, I love how this ancient and meticulous plan gets annihilated by normal people, who just wanted to be free.

THIS is Star Wars: a fight against tyranny.

And it makes me sad how people forget and ignore it. With the Rebellion it’s not just the special people who can be heroes, everyone can! And they don’t even need to do the heroic actions described in the stories and the myths.

A Hero says “No” when the Stormtroopers ask if they saw the young and scared boy who ran and hid behind the bins near their home.

A Hero gives extra blankets and food to the neighbor that is hiding refugees.

A Hero “accidentally” blocks the way of a squad of Stormtroopers, to give others the time to escape.

A Hero hides the weapons of the rebels in their well while the Stormtroopers raid all the houses.

A Hero runs through the streets and into the woods to go find the rebels that are hiding there, to tell them it’s time to run

A Hero talks loudly about the atrocities that the Empire is committing, forcing those who are silent to listen.

A Hero comforts the mother who lost all her children to the Empire.

A Hero organizes the funeral of that same mother, after she tried to take her revenge.

A Hero doesn’t let the Empire enter their head, they don’t let it change their being.

It’s all about the small acts of insurrection that pushes the line forward.

[voteformightyclocks]

Why The Bad Batch Season 3 Was Bad

Now hear me out! I enjoyed it, for the most part. And I know many fans did enjoy love it. But objectively speaking, the show had a rough Seasons 1-2 while it tried to find it's footing, and then a horrible Season 3 due to bad writing. I could never really find the words to explain how I felt but recently I discovered an actual writing technique that was not implemented, which is the core of my problem. So let's talk about that!

The technique in question is setup/payoff. Ideally, everything in your story should have some sort of payoff. Think Boromir being tempted by the ring, and then later betraying the Fellowship. Or the dwarves and elves hating each other but later on Legolas and Gimli referring to each other as friends. The setup can be truly anything, and the payoff also can be. They don't need to be these massive moments that feel epic. But ideally, every notable moment and every lore drop should be building towards something.

While nothing has to build towards something, Tech's death should have. His death was a consequence to the Bad Batch's actions, however it wasn't properly built up or hinted at. The mission was treated the same as any other mission. There was no setup for Tech's death. You could replace his death with literally anyone else in the crew and the impact would have been exactly the same. So if Tech's death wasn't paying anything off, then it should be setup for something later down the line. It's a major event, it needed to be.

Fast forward to Season 3 and we have this assassin pursuing the Bad Batch. This assassin demonstrates Tech's abilities, as well as Crosshair's. Theories buzzed around the internet that this assassin was, in fact, Tech. This would have been awesome payoff. But instead the assassin was a faceless individual. I understand where the show was coming from: "This is what the Empire wanted to turn Task Force 99 into." But that's not satisfying. There was no buildup towards the Empire removing the identity of the clones, not truly. We could have seen that through Crosshair, but all we saw was the Empire trying to control Crosshair, not erase who he was. If we in contrast did have Tech return as the assassin, that would have been different. There would have been setup for that, and then slow buildup, and then finally, the reveal.

And this leads to a major thing that I'm going to talk about that Star Wars...has a history of ignoring. It's okay for the audience to be right. They knew we were saying "Tech could still be alive!" They knew we were going to theorize about the assassin the moment we saw him. I suspect that the whole Faceless Assassins twist was implemented to try to surprise us. It sucked. It had no setup. It wasn't paying anything off. It landed as flat as Tech's death. Yes if the main assassin was actually Tech, we would have guessed it and not been surprised, and granted that would have been a slightly cheesy part of the story, but we would have been excited. It would have been proper payoff to Tech's supposed death.

So TL;DR, The Bad Batch Season 3 sucked because it abandoned a writing principle in order to attempt to shock us, and instead left a major Season 2 event and the entirety of Season 3 dangling with emptiness.

To all you writers or aspiring writers out there, don't follow that path. Even if it means the readers are right, stick to your story and don't abandon writing techniques. There is so much power in writing a story that is purely yours, and no one else's.

Until next time

[vibrantbirdy]

You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

[nocturnesmoon]

I have thoughts spurring around in my head like feral cats chasing a bouncy ball, and I'm making it everyone's problem.

What if we take the world of star wars, and smash you and the 141 into it.

There are so many different combinations and turns this could take, but what I'm thinking about is the 141, ex-military turned smugglers, and you a Jedi in hiding after order 66.

The clone wars have finally come to its brutal end, and the empire has taken over the known galaxy. The Jedi have been portrayed as traitors and have been promptly executed, and the rest forced into hiding.

It looks bleak for anyone still holding onto the hope of the republic, anyone not willing to adapt to the new world gets destroyed right along with the old.

The 141 being forcefully retired, not that they minded at this point they knew it was a losing fight. With their options limited, and not keen to do the empire's bidding, or anyone's bidding ever again, they chose the obvious choice, to run.

It wasn't the ideal outcome, but with a timer on their lives, and conflicted opinions, Price took charge of the group. He knew that right now survival was the only thing that mattered, that his men would still live to see another day.

The year of acclimating to their new life was rough, they were used to sticking together but they also normally had more direction than this. Being wanted in any area governed by the empire limited a lot of work options for them.

It quite honestly didn't take long before Price resorted to less moral means, it was how their career as smugglers started.

With Gaz's excellent piloting skills, Soap's weaponry and science knowledge, Ghost's brute strength and intimating demeanor, and Price's own smooth tongue and connections, it was the most optimal choice.

And much to the their own surprise, they're pretty damn good at it.

They make good money smuggling a lot of different things across the galaxy, food, weapons, illegal goods. They take almost any job they can get in the start; they don't have time to be picky just yet, they need the credits more than good morals.

Their wanted status is likely to never get alleviated, but they combat it by never settling in one place too long. They prioritize the credits they have and get a ship big enough for both their job and to house the four of them. They're already used to being close, while this is a step further it's nothing any one of them has anything against.

They all agreed that they would stay together, they started this together and they'll end it together.

A few years in they have gotten quite the reputation for themselves, at least among other known smugglers and wanted criminals. They get bigger job opportunities, higher pay, more risk.

The bond they forge between each other is something none of them could explain, but they embrace its qualities, it's comfort and pleasure.

Some things are better to just leave unexplained and enjoy while they last. The only thing they have is each other, and they've grown quite content with that.

That was until something unexpected crash landed into their lives.

Docked at some lesser-known planet in system of farmers, they had originally planned to stop there for a few days to stock up on supplies and look for less likely work opportunities. Farmers sometimes had some strange inquiries they were quite content spending massive amounts of the little credits they have.

It was a peaceful little community, none the wiser to the person hiding amongst them. You, a Jedi who somehow survived the purge of order 66, posing as mechanic. Outside of your Jedi teachings, you had clear proficiency in anything creating and fixing.

It had been the perfect cover during the last year, who would suspect that the innocent mechanic trying to get by would harbor such a grave secret. That the kind person living in the rundown house, would be so full of survivors’ guilt that it was nothing short of a miracle they were still going.

It had roughly been 2 years since order 66, 2 years since you had survived and fled, 2 years on the run from the empire and the usual calm feeling of the force now gone.

Images still fresh on your brain despite the time, of your master, of your friends, those you'd considered your family dying from blasters that once aided them.

Every time you reached out through the force it was now hollow, the echo going into your brain and body, reminding you of the terrifying fact that you were truly alone.

You had no idea why you survived out of everyone, not even a fully trained Jedi, a mere Padawan with few accomplishments to their name. You shouldn't have survived that, someone better should be here in your place, yet no matter how much you think those thoughts, you can't change the reality.

The small farmer planet had been a good hiding spot for quite a while, you even dared to make a few friends during your stay. Despite it being less of a good idea you still kept your blade, the kyber crystal within being the only thing giving you comfort in your grief. Though you hadn't expected to ever need it again, especially not this soon.

Never had you expected that the empire would set their sights here, nor had you expected your methods of hiding had actually been that horrible. It didn't take them longer than a few days ‘til the people you thought friends practically turned you in.

You couldn't find it in your heart to blame them, the empire had very convincing methods, yet it still meant you were forced into a run for your life.

When the 141 had set their sights on this planet they hadn't expected the empire to already be here when they arrived. Price had insisted that the planet was still free, and he was right, a week ago.

They remained inconspicuous, did their shopping, and didn't snoop around too long. There was no need to get the empire hot on their tails once again.

When Ghost and Gaz went into the market, they intended on staying out of trouble, and technically they weren't the ones roped into it.

When they first spotted you, running from a few storm troopers, lightsaber blade raised, they nearly didn't believe their own eyes. All the Jedi were supposed to be dead, yet here you were, a sight to behold.

Nothing about their next actions were ruled by logic, if you ask them later about what they were thinking they couldn't tell you, because the only thing that was a priority now was to help you.

Perhaps it was some sort of obligation, maybe a sliver of hope for something better, or maybe it was just something about you that tugged at them, making them want to protect and help you.

Backed into a cornered alley, almost having lost your pursuers you felt the new threat loom behind you. A technique that was familiar in ways you couldn't explain, and too fast for you to register and counter. You were knocked out cold, and the next time you woke you were on a spaceship in space.

To say that Price was furious with the two was an understatement, they had more or less kidnapped someone unprompted. While Soap found the situation hilarious, he also had a feeling there was way more to this, and a possible danger they could've avoided.

When you wake it's Price that greets you, making sure to establish himself to not be a threat to you, so you didn't do anything drastic. You were on edge, understandably so, but he managed to explain the situation while also avoiding the main topic at hand.

You knew it would come up, he was toying with your lightsaber in his hands while you talked, and no matter how much you stared it down you didn't dare lunge for it yet. The dreaded question, and the answer that people had such varying reactions to.

"You're Jedi?"

You had expected something else when you confirmed to him what you were, what you've been since you could remember. A part of you had expected them to be bounty hunters, ready to turn you over to the empire at a moment’s notice. The reward on your head would be great, you imagine, yet that's not what he does.

He reminisces instead, telling you of a Jedi he once knew, of how he and his men had fought alongside a few of them on special occasions. Never had you imagine that this is where you would end up, in the metaphorical arms of people who could care maybe just a little.

He gave you an offer, they could drop you off at whatever location you requested, or they could work a sort of partnership.

You don't know what to make of it at first. They seem genuine, but people have ratted you out for less. You don't have a lot of options, going somewhere else and trying to find another inconspicuous farming planet wasn't the most viable choice, but neither was bunking with them. Who knew what kind of people they were.

Your chances were not the best, and unfortunately you had a sneaking suspicion they knew that. Whether their intentions were noble or just pity, you decided to take the risk and stay. If it all came crashing down, you'd still have your training, it had gotten you this far, it could get you further.

The first few days you stayed with them was tense, they were all in agreement on keeping you, there was nothing hostile about it, but it was still tense. It was partially your own doing, you walked on eggshells around them, never letting any of them behind you, etc. etc.

They understood to an extent, the way they met you wasn't exactly on the best of terms, it was natural for you to be cautious. So, they let you have your space, they don't pressure you into anything but do try to coax you into a more comfortable environment with them.

The crack starts to form when you see them all gathered in the main area of the ship, laughing, talking, playing a game you're unfamiliar with. Soap is the first to notice you staring, with a big grin on his face he invites you to join them. Hesitant but interested you approach.

Price explains the rules to you, and you get to watch for a round or two before you join in on your own. They go easy on you but you're a quick learner, and it doesn't take long before you become quite vicious in your play.

It becomes a common thing, almost nightly that they all gather to spend time together. The bond between each other grows fast, and it's not long before you start feeling like this is exactly where you're meant to be.

Settling in with them becomes easier and easier, as if they had always waited for another person to welcome in with them. To fill a missing part, they didn't know they needed.

While keeping the secret of what you are is the topmost priority, you end up helping them out on jobs. Due to your training you're very adaptable, able to fill any position where something was missing.

You were an excellent mechanic when the ship was down, and with Gaz's magic touch it halved the time it usually took to repair.

Soap had a really fun time explaining a bunch of different things about weaponry and the science behind it. There had been a lot of different questions you had in the clone wars that was left unanswered, you could finally have someone enthusiastic that could explain them to you.

A lot of long rides were spent like that, of you asking him questions and then more questions because the math he talked about in the first question was confusing.

Even though you were just a Padawan back then, you still had made your fair share of connections during the clone wars. People that you and your old master had come across, and old friends outside of the Jedi order.

Price found it very useful, and though most of the connections you had were friendship and not business, it could still be used as such. A few of them he even helped rekindle, you've been grateful for that ever since.

Though the Jedi order is no more you still try to keep up with your training. You have no guidance any longer, nothing new to look at, but you can maintain what you know.

The others are happy to help you with it as well, they know it's important to you and a part of them have always found it fascinating how you train.

Occasionally you'd have them all surround you in a circle, setting their blasters to stun and randomly shooting at you. It helped sharpening your senses, helped you rely on the force to guide your hand, and to deflect more accurately.

You'd do a lot of training with Ghost that wasn't necessarily Jedi training. While you did a lot of mental training on your own, the physical part was something Ghost had a lot of enjoyment in helping you with.

Sparring, running, lifting, anything he could think of that would help you, he did, and it quickly became thing for you two to train together.

It wasn't anything you had expected with them, not in a million years would you have imagined ending up here. It was a thing you couldn't predict, but neither was order 66.

Nobody you knew had been able to foresee the collapse of the Jedi order. Some things were just left up to chance, and currently here with the 141, you liked your odds.

I just finished reading the book project hail mary, and not too long ago i reread the Ahsoka book. So safe to say i've been in a bit of a space mood, still am.

And what better way to utilize that, than combine my hyperfixation on the 141 and my special interest star wars hehe.

[david-talks-sw]

Thoughts on Tales of the Empire?

Worth noting that I do my best to look at these as short films, the same as the ones I see when I go to film festivals. So re: any "lore-breaking" elements (Grievous' design, Thrawn stuff, etc)... I don't see them as retcons, so much as just format-driven reinterpretations.

That said, the first of the Morgan episodes is okay, the rest is lackluster... which is telling, frankly.

Even with three Tales of the Empire episodes on top of what we've seen in Ahsoka and The Mandalorian, they still haven't been able to give this character more depth than "she suffered loss and now she's mean." Morgan Elsbeth is the Jiren of Star Wars, as far as I'm concerned.

The Barriss episodes were fine. I'm glad to see she finds the light in the end and goes back to being a healer (win for EU fans) and I'm glad she eventually mended bridges with Ahsoka. She's probably not dead, if you ask me.

But even here... this is someone who bombed the temple, killed innocent people, made a woman inject nanobots into her husband then choked her to death to cover her tracks AND framed her friend.

A lot of people cling to her speech in the Senate to characterize her as this Cassandra-type figure, but don't forget this moment...

I mean come on guys, she's literally smiling sadistically, here.

My point being: she's no snowflake.

Aside from the already-panned fact that taking one of the few muslim-coded characters and making them a bomber is extreeemely poor form: you made a choice in writing, now stick to it. You wanted to have Barriss be someone who feels the red blades of a known assassin "suits her"? Do it.

I have no idea where they saw the above and thought that the "I don't wanna fight you, old friend" BS in her first episode, or the "we're supposed to be better than this" rhetoric from the second episode, would track.

I can fill in the gaps, and gladly will.

My headcanon is that Luminara visited her whenever she could... and this softened Barriss' hardened heart, over time. Then one day she's sent to Kashyyk, and "don't worry Barriss, I'll be back for our daily chat"... and she doesn't. Barriss goes to sleep concerned, wakes up during Order 66.

But, as usual, that's me getting creative with it because the creatives wouldn't do so in the first place. Also, I'm pretty sure "Barriss becomes an inquisitor" is a turnout most folks expected, so no real mind-blowing beats coming from these episodes.

All in all, a 7/10 in my book (a high score despite all my bitching because my qualms are with the writing; the sound design and visuals are amazing and I think a 7 reflects that).

[obislittleone]

Come What May

Episode 4/?

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader (little one)

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, allusions to smut but no actual smut. canon typical violence, robbery?? idek y'all

A/n: I can't believe I edited this in one sitting but here u go now be fed and I'll probably post another one in two months lol

NINE YEARS LATER…

The sand was relentless, as it always was. Such was the life on Tatooine.

The days, though boring and long, brought a sense of peace and security to you. It was comfortable, and you didn’t have to worry about being chased.

Life with Obi was still blissful, though he’d become a different sort of person than he used to be. He was still yours, and one thing that would never change in his life was his unending love and devotion to you. Over all the bad things, you were still there, and if that was so, his life could never be all bad.

He became grumpy easily, but you often teased him, joking about how old he was truly getting. He’d hate when you pointed it out, because he already felt so much older than he had when the war was going on. Many would argue that it aged him, but truth be told, he was perhaps living the youngest days of his life back then.

You, of course, had continued to mature into the beautiful woman he’d always seen before. You looked different, sure… but all the ways you’d changed, he would think were for the better. He loved how normal you seemed. It was always so much more peaceful, living here. It was mundane and often quiet, but it was peaceful, and far less demanding of your former lifestyle. He had always hoped you could live a simple and sweet life, maybe not on this maker-forsaken planet, but having days that were just the same.

The daily routine was easy, and by now implanted in both of your minds. It was second nature, and hard to mess up even if you tried. The mornings were always slow, as the work hours were different from what you’d once known. After dragging each other from the warm confines of bed, there was a shared silence that would fall over you both as you continued to ready yourselves for each job you had. You had the fat end of the stick, getting to work in the city. You were legally dead across the galaxy, and the empire had no warrant for you in any scanner known to the systems. Especially not in the outer rim.

Obi-Wan had taken up the name Ben, the name he remembers from childhood. He doesn’t know if it was his original name, or if it was the name of his father, but it belonged to him somehow, and he felt it was easy to go by.

An hour was spent riding to anchor-head everyday, in order to clock in for your shift, and for him to catch a speeder to whatever work station they needed him at for the day. Lately he’d been harvesting flying Tibidon sand whales for their meat. He never failed to bring back a sliver of what he cut for your Eopie. It was something he did out of habit by now, but it somehow reminded you of a small thing he used to do for you many years ago.

Back in the age of the Jedi, before the clone wars ever began, Obi-Wan Kenobi had two padawans. One was the chosen one, and though he was often found to be a trouble maker, he was still the favorite among the two. The other was a small girl, not yet grown to her full capabilities. She always had a strong appetite, though, and the meals given to her were never enough to satisfy her growing form. Obi-Wan was quick to notice little things like this, and always saved his portion of Ksharra bread for her to eat after everyone was finished. The smile it brought to her was not soon forgotten…

What a sweet memory, and you almost always thought about it when you were watching him interact with the Eopie. He was gentle to all creatures, even after he became a bit hardened and settled into his new role of life.

After the ride home, there were meals that were shared in a comfortable quiet, and then a discussion of the day. It was definitely a more quaint way to live, but you preferred it to the horrid idea of running for years on end. You always told him how thankful you were to be with him, to have him amidst everything. It was he who you remembered the earliest in your life, being there for you, watching out for everything you faced, and helping you through it. He was still doing that, in a way. Though it were not by the force, he gave advice of work topics, different moody customers that would come in during the day, and even just ideas to help the work day seem faster.

It was only after he left for bed, with you watching the stars rise, that you were able to meditate. To revel in the force and to trust in its ways without anyone stopping you. Not to say that Obi-Wan would stop you, but he perhaps would try and convince you it still was not safe. It was you, however, that kept up your daily strength by meditation, and use of the force without his knowledge.

Though he would never know, your strong uses of the force were the thing that helped him sleep through the night, as he often woke up with nightmares, stirring your slumber as well and making you alert to the bad things his mind conjured. It was mostly Anakin, because how could it not be? He was his Master and his best friend, a true brother and ally. He had to have felt some sort of responsibility for what happened to him, all leading up to his death.

You too felt semblances of guilt, but you dealt with it in other ways. For him, these nightmares were often occurrences, and it was due to you that he got any sleep at all.

He would sometimes sit straight up at a moment’s notice, scaring you awake and realizing what had happened. He would breath fast and loud and not be able to slow it down, not even when you wrapped your arms around him from behind, whispering soothing words like he once did for you in your time of nightly terrors. At first, he was lucky to get back to sleep at all… but the more it happened, he found you being near him helped to calm him back to sleep. He’d cut himself off from the force, he had no use of it anymore. He didn’t know it was because of your old developed ability to take away the bad dreams. You always slept soundly beside him, even before you were together. Whenever he was laid next to you, there was not a dream that could plague your mind for the worse.

There was one night when he woke up, calling his old Master’s name. He sometimes dreamt of the way he died. He felt as though it was also his fault, that he could have prevented the Sith Lord Maul from destroying his only father figure.

It was all you could do, to sit with him, and try and calm his mind… but that night was harder. He had begun counting his failures as if they were stars, making them the only thing in the forefront of his mind, and rejecting anything that wasn’t his detrimental thoughts.

You sat with him until sunrise that day, but once the twin suns were over the dunes of everlasting sand, the day went on as normal. The small moments of grief and self loathing were forgotten.

It happened this way, only sometimes.

Something that brought you both peace on the bad days was going out to the hills and crests outside of the moisture farms specifically that being owned by Owen and Beru Lars. It would never be uttered aloud, for these thoughts brought on more episodes of sadness, but watching a small boy grow up in the sandy plains was always bittersweet. Though Luke wasn't a starpilot, or a jedi knight, or a cunning strategist... he reminded you so much of Anakin. You knew Anakin at this age, and all the years after. Even little gestures Luke sometimes made to his aunt and uncle, would send a pang of guilt through your chest. Anakin should be the one watching his son grow up. You all should be retired somewhere nice, like Naboo, with Padme watching over the twins as Anakin and Obi-Wan once again conversed like the brothers they used to be. Bittersweet, watching Luke learn to tend the farm like his uncle, instead of watching him play with his sister whom he knows nothing about.

Obi-Wan would never admit it either, but it was both healing and detrimental to observe Luke from a distance. He was closer to the boy's father than Owen ever was, and much more deserved the title of uncle... but it was not to be. Obi-Wan was a hunted man, and allowing Luke to be close to him could be dangerous.

Obi-Wan would bow his head sometimes after watching the boy, trying to make sense of how everything in his life could have lead to to this, and what could have possibly gone wrong that the galaxy was this bad. He could not even have a relationship with the son of his dearest friend.

Recently, he had delved into something of an addiction for him, something that was a grounding tool to help him realize he wasn’t going insane in these days of mundane work and internal chaos on this maker-forsaken planet. Others might see it as normal, but he had never been so insatiable before now. He craved one thing, constantly… you.

Whether it be through physical intimacy, or even small touches of your skin, he couldn’t get enough, and it was causing him to form strong habits that would not soon falter. You were of course all too happy to indulge him, as for a long time after you first came to these mountains, there was a block between you. The emotional force bond being broken disrupted many things, and that was one of them. You hoped sincerely that this was not just a rut he found himself in, and that it would only last so long. You’d missed the late nights, shared kisses and times of devotion to one another. He was such a gentle and skilled lover, anyone would have killed to know this side of him, but it was you he chose, again and again.

Though one half of the dyad was not felt in the force, he was still the love of your life, and you’d come to know him in a different way these past years. He was not necessarily a new person, but knowing him without the force, and without your constant ability of silent communication, he did become unfamiliar at times.

Still, he was Obi.

Always, he was Obi… even when everyone else used the name Ben, you would never give up the way you’d called upon him since you were but three years old. In public, he was just Ben Kenobi, who worked out in the dunes of Tatooine for a days wage… but in your eyes he was still the great protector of the republic, the General of the 212th legion, and a Master of the Jedi council. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

-

You were late again.

Not to work.

You didn’t tell Obi of your suspicions, feeling as though there could be a mixed reaction from whatever came of your condition, if you were indeed under the diagnosis you felt you were.

It had been ten years, and you were sure you’d retained internal damage that might prevent this outcome, but of course, the galaxy has seen far more impossible things come to fruition. Anakin’s mother conceived him without a man at all, so with the rate that your husband and yourself were going, it was almost bound to happen.

You left work earlier than usual, and gave an easy excuse to your employer as to why, and he of course was more than happy to oblige. You were a loyal and decent worker, so he never had any reason not to. There was a small clinic in Anchorhead, not as far advanced or technical as the one you were able to go to in Mos Eisley, but good enough that you would find out what you need to know, or what you were certain you already knew.

Being still deeply connected with the force, you were able to tell something was there, just like the first time, although now there was a slight difference that made you question it at first. Obi still had no idea, and how could he? You hadn’t let on to it at all and there wasn’t an ounce of strangeness to your behavior. Throw in the fact that he can no longer sense those kind of things, and you have a completely oblivious husband.

The medical droid who tended to you was outdated, but even with old mechanisms and past due needed upgrades, it deducted your symptoms to a diagnosis rather quickly.

You were eleven weeks pregnant, no doubt about it after some quick testing.

Though you were nervous of what this could mean for you, it was far more of a joy. You never thought this would be possible again, given the circumstances of the last time leaving you with injuries that should have made you completely unable to reproduce.

You were so excited as you went back into work, reeling from the information, and trying to think of ways to tell the father of this child that he was in-fact getting another chance at his dream. It wasn’t how you both had planned. You’d wanted to settle down amongst your friends, on a beautiful planet like Naboo. You had hoped for the freedom of the galaxy to give you the opportunities of a peaceful existence. Instead, you were stuck here, on Tatooine. The ugliest planet in the outer rim and much worse than you remember it from your first visit all those years ago. It was all for a reason, of course. Obi-Wan was a wanted man, in nearly every system there was a bounty on his head, with more than enough hunters out searching for him to bring his body dead or alive to the empire. You, of course, being legally dead and all, could go anywhere you wanted… but without him you saw little point in traveling away.

This child would mend the broken dreams you both had for the future, you were sure of it.

You went back about your work with a gleeful smile adorning your face, being extra friendly to patrons and even giving them a little extra for their buck. You couldn’t help the joy, it was too strong to keep bottled up for later. You were sure, though, it would still remain long into the day, and all the others after.

You’d been cleaning out a glass behind the counter when it happened. A group of robbers from out in Mos Eisley came rushing in, holding everyone at blaster point and shouting for them to get down. You grabbed a knife from the nearby drawer, trying to strategize through the force how to deescalate the situation without hurting anyone. Your skills were just the slightest bit rusty, even though you practiced whenever you got the chance. A knife wasn’t exactly your weapon of choice.

The leader of the group stepped forward to the owner of the bar, and told him to empty the credit holds into his sack, but the owner hesitated, turning your way as if asking what he should do. You started taking quick steps towards him, pushing him out of the line of the blaster before it could go off. You waited for them to start shooting, but instead heard the ignition of a lightsaber. Or at least, it sounded a hell of a lot like one.

You jumped to your feet, watching over the counter as the scene played out. There was a man, around your age, wielding a lightsaber to defeat the robbers. They all went down pretty quickly, except one whom the man didn’t see behind him. You called for him to watch out, but he didn’t have enough time to react, so you raised your hand, focusing all your force energy on throwing the last enemy to the wall before he hit the ground.

He turned to you, eyes wide and saber still ignited.

“Did you just-?” He narrowed his eyes in your direction, and something seemed to click in his head.

Nobody else had seen you do that, but him seeing it was enough.

The bar rang with cheers and clapping in applause for the Jedi, who had saved the people in the establishment from being harmed by the robbery. They all commended him, and you had half a mind to forget it ever happened, just go back to work, but the man was keen on speaking with you. Even after the owner, and your boss, had spent a rather long time thanking him and offering him solace in the place, he wouldn’t be done until he’d had a word.

You were mixing up celebratory drinks for a few patrons when he finally was able to corner you, standing over the bar and keeping his voice down.

“I know who you are,” he said softly, as if trying not to spook you away. Most Jedi were like rare animals nowadays. Almost extinct, and completely vulnerable to sudden attack.

You set the glasses onto a tray and made eye contact with him for a single second, sending a glare his way before you went out to the tables and served the drinks around. He stayed and waited at the bar, and when you came back he sighed out.

“I know this must be hard, but I haven’t seen another Jedi in so long,” he rambled, all under the guise of a whisper, of course. You wouldn’t lie, as much as you feared the empire for everything it has taken from you, it was almost a breath of fresh air to see there were others, who hadn’t been stomped out by their evil yet.

“I was never a Jedi,” you said, but ultimately, you knew, no matter what you said, he knew who you were. As strange as it sounds, being the padawan of a famous Jedi came with some sort of notoriety. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I know that it’s you, because you’re supposed to be dead,” he had seen your name on the list of the deceased Jedi, along with his own name on the list of hunted ones.

“I am dead.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, maybe that you’d been like him, hiding for the last ten years and hoping that there would come a time when Jedi could arise again. But that wasn’t realistic. As long as the empire held rule over the galaxy, there could never be peace and freedom. Not for your kind, anyway.

“And I’m not coming back,” you added ominously, cleaning out the glasses that had just been set on the counter for you to deal with.

He stayed silent a few moments, but didn’t leave. Even if you didn’t speak to him, you understood why he lingered. The only Jedi you have in your life anymore is Obi-Wan, but he’s cut himself off from the force. There is no familiarity of what was. This man is probably on his own, and has been all this time. He craves the sense of normalcy your presence is probably bringing right now. Perhaps you crave it too, and maybe it’s the reason you don’t shoo him away.

“He’s here too, isn’t he?” He asked after a while.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you weren’t doing yourself any favors in gaslighting this poor man, but you’d built yourself a wall of protection, and it wasn’t going to come down so easily.

“You were inseparable,” he recalls, and he knows you understand him, and that you’re just being standoff-ish. “I always wished to have that relationship with my Master.”

“Believe me, the relationship was far different from what everyone assumed it to be,” You let out sarcastically, finally being able to let your guard down a bit, but only enough that you could interact with him in a way that wasn’t stingy. You’d keep all current details hidden. He wanted to rehash the past? Fine, you could give him that.

“What it ended up as isn’t any of my business, but from what I could tell, the laws of attachment didn’t exactly apply.”

You huffed out a breath, followed by a drawn out ‘Nope.’

You thoughts shifted a bit, to just how poorly you followed the rules. You’re carrying the man’s child for force’s sake. You were never much one for the laws of attachment.

The man before you had a dumbfounded face on, and you mentally slapped yourself. You hadn’t been guarding your thoughts. You haven’t had to in so long and before you realized you needed you, it all just slipped into the open air.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, bowing his head as if he’d been the one to provoke you. In actuality, you’d pretty much offered it all up freely for him to take, and you didn’t even know what to do about it.

“Don’t be, it’s my fault… it’s just-“

“Been a long time?” He guessed, and you nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

And now a complete stranger knew some very personal things. Perhaps he wasn’t stranger, though. He knew you, and Obi-Wan, and remembered the order from its glory days. You both had a sense of shared trauma that somehow bonded you without ever speaking a word to each other before.

“How did you recognize me?” You asked him after another bout of silence. You were drying off the dishes, and figured that as long as he was here, you would make the most of it. This clearly wasn’t an everyday occurrence. “I’m almost certain I’ve never met you up close before.”

He smiled, nodding to your hair, swept back into a style you’d become fond of lately. “Never met you, but I’d seen you around. You were rather well known among the order.”

“Guess those are the perks of being his padawan, huh?” You’d echoed your thoughts from earlier, and he chuckled.

“He was the person that everyone wanted to be. Not just a great Jedi, but a good man.”

Of course. You knew that better than anyone. He cared so deeply about everything he set his hand to. He was kind and gentle, though sometimes sarcastic and witty, but that too made him more likable in your eyes.

“He’s not changed in that aspect,” you let him know, and he took it as motive to tease you.

“I knew he’d be here,” he returned, and you looked up and laughed a bit. He’d caught you there. “He’d never left your side.”

You didn’t respond, just let that statement sink in. You guessed that many more Jedi in the order had perceived your relationship for what it really was, but never said anything. Maybe they were rooting for you, or maybe you gave them hope. It was all up for interpretation, but the one thing you could never deny was the realness in it. He’s never left your side, and he never will. Of that, you can be absolutely sure and certain.

When it was time to close up the bar that night, you’d left before the owner, making sure he was alright after the fiasco of the day. You passed your new and unlikely friend the Jedi on the way out as well, giving a simple nod that spoke more than just words. You knew he needed to talk with you, and as much as you will neglect to admit it, you needed to talk to him, too.

You found yourself at the stables before sundown, meeting with Obi by your shared Eopie, ready to go home.

You figured that the bundle of joy news could wait until things were a bit more settled. You didn’t know how the scene of today would go in the long run, or if imperials had been alerted, but you wanted to know about all of that before trying to make future plans for the child you were carrying.

He saw you enter the sectional, and smiled to you with that adoring look in his eye, the one that never faded.

“You won’t believe what happened today.”

-

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[angel-sweets666]

Stuck together

Barbarian prince! bakugo katsuki x princess! Reader(fem)

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff. Btw if I do make this a series(this is a sneak peak) it’ll be a slow burn

full version here

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me.”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, feigned illness, and concocted elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were resolute, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes downcast. "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk from

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away.

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and peircing

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors.

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way," he said, the blonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids

oh you are so done with his bullshit

[stealingpotatoes]

Skywalkers apart au! It's so precious that Anakin gets to be a dad, a rebellion general Dad but he gets to be there for at least one of them and Padme survives and gets to be a mom and maybe someday they get to meet and it's so good.

Also the concept of General Skywalker of the Rebellion feels like it has so much potential cause he was such a big figure in the Clone Wars, he was the Hero, the General, he could probably get the various splinter rebel cells (they were very divided in the early Rebellion) to follow him by sheer reputation and charisma. Imagine Anakin being at Hoth, like the attack is going along the usual Imperial imminent victory and suddenly an AT-AT has been thrown clear across the landscape and an announcement sounds out "General Skywalker has entered the field" cue Rebel Counterattack due to morale boost and Imperial Panic.

What happened to the 501st here? Did he go to the Venator's crash site where Ahsoka was during Order 66 what did he think when he saw all the dead folks?

Fun thought, Starkiller being the apprentice in this AU, means that Sidious has probably been comparing him to Anakin (in part because he's bitter he didn't fall, in other part cause it's great for fueling the darkside) for years so the first time they face off he's gonna be full of spiteful hatred (all going according to plan) before Starkiller gets styled on by the Skywalker, cause Anakin isn't crippled by the suit and that means he's still massively powerful in the force and skilled in the blade (Vader was too, but less than a whole Anakin), I could see Anakin pulling a Lightside version of the Rogue One Hallway scene against Stormtroopers (or even inquisitors).

Rebel General Anakin Skywalker would be an Imperial Boogeyman.

Leia would probably appreciate it for a while but also she'd get a bit annoyed about her dad's reputation and "Legend" and the fact that she's probably got that entire thing to measure up to, making her more reckless or foolhardy. That's a big shadow to live under.

Padme on the other hand is probably in a very different situation reputation wise, she was the senator for the new Emperor's home planet, she's the old queen of naboo from the Trade Federation attack, she's a founding member of one of the oldest discrete rebellion cells but that still leaves some stigma. She's probably so very worried about Imperial surveilance on her or Luke or the rest of her family, and it doesn't help that the Inquistorious has probably been sniffing around for a while.

ok this is a veeeeery long ask so i'm gonna have a veeeery long answer which is gonna go under this readmore:

YES!! yes absolutely! tbh i decided a while back he never gets an official promotion to general, everyone just calls him General Skywalker for so long that it sticks loll. BUT YEAH I mean working with a Jedi is rare and awe-inspiring enough for any rebellion cell but working with the hero with no fear??? half the rebels are wondering if they can interrupt this mission to ask for his autograph

its extra funny bc for the first few years of the empire he's lowkey depressed and like agh i failed the order republic AND my family i'm a terrible horrible no good jedi who nearly turned to the dark side and while he's having this spiral there's some rebel standing next to him pointing and pogging

and yeah he's SO useful in big battles like that!! he's half a legend, half a ghost story, given most ppl think he died in the Purge but here he is, enacting justice on the empire!! tho he does struggle on quieter missions (which happen a lot more at first bc gotta hide from the empire) that you cant just blaze into. its a difficult shift to go from clone wars general skywalker to rebel general skywalker

yeah 501st same as canon ): but OHHH MY GOD yes thats SUCH A PERFECT IDEA, Anakin going with Rex and Ahsoka to the site and mourning them all (and probably going into another depression spiral lbr)

youre so right lollll obvs leia loves the one up she has in an argument of "well my dad's general skywalker, beat that" but as u say she absolutely wants to live up to that (+ is a very independent/stubborn person and would like Leia Skywalker, not just "General Skywalker's daughter" lol)

AND YEAH ABSOLUTELY Padmé and Anakin's roles in this au are both so interesting (is that egotistical to say) bc they're these upside down versions of their clone wars roles, both very loud people forced to quieten down and be Discreet about how they go abt helping ppl. Padmé is really struggling hiding so much (luke's force sensitivity, her rebel activities, all relations to anakin) and trying to protect Luke while helping the Rebellion WHILE trying not to seem suspicious. a lot on her plate -- only made worse by palpatine keeping a close-ish eye on her, and she can't tell why (is it bc of luke? the rebellion? anakin? or is it just his old favouritism or patriotism being VERY inconvenient??)

on the inquisitors, obvs you don't see a lot of them on coruscant -- but padmé's SO scared abt ppl (MAINLY SIDIOUS WHO, YA KNOW, TRIED TO TURN LUKE'S DAD SITH) finding out abt him and she hates that she's making him repress this part of himself but what choice does she have???

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 14}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Empire will cease at nothing to gain what it wants, but you're determined to fight back at any cost. Flanked by the renown Mandalorian and those he recruited for such a mission, you willingly walk into the trap set by someone from your past.

Word Count: 12k (i'm sensing a new pattern here....)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, canon typical fighting, canon typical language, minor character death (not detailed), star wars cursing, modern day cursing, violence, fighting, description of injuries, mentions of blood, references to life threatening injuries, poison, descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of ptsd, violent reactions to trauma, dangerous reactions to trauma, references to past sa (not detailed), fire, explosions, battle descriptions, use of reader inserts given name as a plot point, um there's a whole lot going on in this but please let me know if i missed anything?

A/N: um, hi, gonna drop this and run away. okay, bye, love you

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Darkness blanketed the landscape quickly, the sun setting and taking with it the sense of comfort.

In the dark, tensions seemed to rise. Bounty hunters used to working in solace and three individuals who had been on their own for as long as they could remember out of self-preservation was not a good combination to put out in the already hard to traverse terrain of the lava flats. The amber glow of the lava was bright as it wound through the rough volcanic rock of the ground, split open into wide valleys in some places. The sound of it a constant clinking that hummed in your ears as it echoed across the open land. Akin to glass shards being tossed and tumbling together.

An errant thought of hunger led to the slaughter of a goat, one of many that had been seen across the sprawling landscape throughout the day’s travels. The remnants of it on a makeshift roasting spit above the crackling fire. You had opted out, choosing to stick to the dried fruit hidden away in the pouch attached to your thigh. Cara had tried to hide her knowing smile as you slid one into Din’s gloved hand and he lifted it underneath his helmet in the guise of adjusting it. But you had seen it, just as she had seen the small exchange.

Kuiil was quiet, taking his role of caretaker seriously as he sat on Din’s right, feeding small bites to ad’ika from the roasted meat.

“I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore.” Karga spoke up from his relaxed position to your left. He was half laying down on his side, one arm propping him up and a knee bent to help steady himself. Watching eyes taking in the odd gathering of people he had assembled around the campfire. “Never seen anything like it.”

He was contemplative for a second, humming before he spoke again.

“They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.”

“And for you, lovely San.”

“It’s Sarad.” He’d barely gotten the last consonant of your name out before you quickly corrected him, not wanting it to be said aloud. It was risky enough that he knew it, had known it nearly as long as Din, but you didn’t trust it coming from his lips. You hardly wanted Din to use it, still conditioned to keep it a secret as close to your heart as possible, wary of it getting back to your mother, the people who already knew of your exact location and with whom you were now traveling with. Even using your self-appointed name, folded into your identity the second it had fallen from your once guardian could jeopardize your efforts to remain a shadow and go unnoticed. But the chances were more slim, less likely someone would take notice.

“Apologies,” He aimed a small smile your way, head knocking back to see you fully from his spot. “For the lovely Sarad…they were ready to decimate the town in order to search for you once they found out you had visited. The rumblings stirred by the mere hint of your presence were indeed very impressive. Is it true that you have a lightsaber?”

“The only way you’re gonna see it is when it’s drawn on you.”

“Ha-ha! Such vigor, I like it. You intrigue me, dear Sarad. But I’m sure there’s much more to know about you if you’ve managed to catch the attention of Mando here. He’s never taken on a traveling companion in the years I’ve known him. Must be something truly special.”

“Let’s go over the plan again.” Din directed the conversation away from you, not liking how much Karga wanted to engage with you. Wondering how long he had held onto your puck while he waiting for the Mandalorian to make his way back to Nevarro in between jobs, the once activated tracker and the holder of your scant personal information something he both regretted and thanked the Maker for ever having been privy to. More so the former, he would admit to you in the cover of darkness aboard the Crest.

“Alright, well, we both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him.”

“What’s the client’s name?” You interjected, warning bells beginning to wind up in your psyche. A low thrumming tone that was gaining volume as the conversation went on.

“Classified.”

“If I knew who it was, I could give you an idea if it’s going to be as simple as that. Most ranks that actively meet with those they’re trading with aren’t that high, they work as a front for the person who holds the power. The command and forces to hold up threats to ensure that deals get made in their favor.”

“Tell me about his reinforcements.” The visor was panned toward you, keeping you both in his line of sight. Unsure of how your interaction would play out, but knowing how Karga was, he worried for the man picking at unseen wounds and soft spots you kept hidden from people well. He could see them in you, picked up on them in the time he had spent with you. The conversations you both shared and the confessions given to him with trusting and willing lips.

“They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they’ll scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?” Cara looked to you, eyes catching your own in the glint of the firelight, doubtful frown marring her beautiful features that you tried not to mirror. But it was true, they wouldn’t scatter. It was never that simple with the Empire, ruling and controlling not only with the promise of monetary compensation but the threat of violence and decimation of any who defies them.

“They will.” Karga pushed, not knowing exactly what he was dealing with and unprepared in the most worrisome of ways in how he’s concocted his plan. As if he were dealing with members of the Guild and not an once galaxy wide regime clinging to power as people believed. But it was alive and well, in some pockets and this happened to be one of them flourishing on Nevarro.

“That’s not good enough.” Din looked across from you toward the still relaxed and half lounging man. “If Sarad has intimate knowledge of how they operate, we need to heed her words.”

“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me, I barely trust you. You nearly landed a kill shot when I saw you last. But her? Mando, she could be playing us both and we wouldn’t even know it. Just trying to get her own intel to figure out how to play us all against each other and reap her own rewards from the rubble.”

“Insinuating that might as well be your resignation on this whole kriffing thing.” Cara barked, causing the others around the fire to jump. “She has more at stake here than any of us, having been forced to work with them in the past.”

“It’s alright cyar’ika. I’m used to people not trusting me.”

“If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path for alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, and one of their own ranks that has managed to break away will cut down anyone who bucks.” He sat up completely, motioned to each person he was talking about. Confident, self-assured, cocky. And oh, so wrong.

“How many will there be?”

“No more than four.”

“Bantha shit.” For all the bristle and heat in your words, you looked collected. But Din caught the way your eyes glinted as you sat between them, and it could only be compared to the way they had done back on the ship when Karga’s transmission had played. The discussion that resulted from it stirring something inside of you that despite being aware of it and doing your best to tamp down, was manifesting in ways the Mandalorian was picking up on. And it worried him, your whispered words of your history echoing in his mind.

White sabers have been purified.

Din’s hand was discreet as it brushed up against your own, the plate of beskar protecting the back of his hand cool against the tips of your exposed fingers. With a small huff, you tangled them with his own and settled down further in your spot. Comforted that the cover of night would shield the contact from those around you, even with their aided vision should they have the mechanics for night vision in their goggles, resting atop their heads as they sat across from you. The conversation quickly dissolving into an argument, one that you nor Karga surely had the energy for.

“Are you questioning my intel?”

“I’m calling a bluff when I see one. There is absolutely no reason why a quarry of ad’ika’s caliber would only warrant four.”

“He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. I’m beginning to think it would be best if we were to tie this one up and make it look like a true capture. Trust me.” He continued on as he stood, wiping his gloves on his pants to ride them of dirt. He was about to open his mouth to say more genuinely placed words of encouragement when an animalistic screech pierced the air and the flap of giant leathery wings of a beast swooped low and claws swiped at his arm.

His scream spurred everyone to scramble into motion.

It was chaos, the haunting sounds of their wings bringing them low to swipe at any weakness in your group it could find. Din bent to activate the closure of ad’ika’s pod, sealing him in safely to avoid him getting targeted. You were turning with your own blaster raised high and rushing behind Kuiil as he tried to ward off the creatures from taking one of the blurrgs.

When it had been successful, you turned to Din with the question of direction on the tip of your tongue.

Din’s hands were steady as he fired on the imposing figure closing in on you both, as you felt the swoop of giant wings behind you, and you tried to reach out for him with a call of his name. Panic making you forget that it was a secret just between the two of you, the fear of being torn apart spurring it from your lips.

A snarl fell from your lips right after his name as you felt massive claws grasp the fabric of your cloak and lift you up from the ground.

The snarl turned into a shriek of your own as the claws ripped through your clothing and dug into the skin of your shoulders, carrying you off into the air.

Legs swinging as you struggled to maneuver in the tight grip the creature had clamped over your shoulders as you tried to shield the pod ad’ika had hidden himself in. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was safe inside of it if they had still managed to pluck it up from between everyone. Wind whipped around you as you tried to gather your bearings, eyes stinging as dust and dirt whirled up all around you. The dark landscape dizzying as it lit up with blaster fire and the glint of it off the armor everyone donned and the beasts’ bodies.

You took a breath, trying to settle your overworking mind when it decided to recall the way it felt the last time it had been flung and lifted into the air. But that was different, this wasn’t an explosion knocking you off your feet and sending you sprawling a great distance from where you had been. This wasn’t the nightmares or memories that plagued you endlessly. This was a creature that had seen an opportunity for an easy meal and you had to focus and get out of it.

Faintly, you heard you name shouted, a rough and angry sounding thing echoing behind you. It fueled you, pushing you to reach up despite the claws digging in your shoulders, ripping through the layers of your cloak and clothing, scrabbling on the smooth expanse of the chainmail you had donned for the excursion. But still, it sunk in between the rungs of metal, stronger than the material and pierced skin despite the protection.

Massive leather wings flapped above you, wind whipping up and disorienting you as you felt gravity lurch. It was hauling you, taking you higher and away from the conflict. You worried just how far it could travel and tried to orient yourself before it was too late.

Hands scratching into the thick skin of the creature’s feet, you stabbed a knife deep into the joint. An ear-piercing shriek had you flinching, ears ringing as you felt it release you from that foot’s hold. The other clutched at you tightly, holding fast and digging its claws in even more. You shouted out in pain, trying to pull yourself up by the grip you managed to get on it, but the remaining claws only dug deeper into your skin.

Grunting as you let your body sag, you reached into your pouch for the saber hidden inside. You braced yourself, taking in the heights that the creature had flown to and mentally prepared for the fall. A deep breath centered your focus before you engaged the blade and swung up to sever the last leg holding tight to you.

“Mesh’la!” Din’s voice crackled forth from the comm link built into your vambrace. You didn’t stir, body aching and fire coursing through your veins as the poison from the creature wound its way into your system entirely. Your breathing was labored, a slow push and pull of too hot air as you had collapsed alongside a flowing river of lava. “They’re poisonous.”

“C-copy that,” You stuttered out, voice waning as you tried not to succumb to the fire burning you from the inside out. Laid out in the middle of the vast open planes, the dead carcass of the beast that had tried to pluck you up lay in a heap not too far.

“I can’t see you even with my helmet’s range, are you okay?”

“Claws, dug into my shoul-shoulders.” Breathing was becoming too hard, a wheezing wrapped around your words, making them raspy and hard to pick apart.

“Dank Ferrick. You have a med pack with you?” 

“Won’t work on the poison, will only slow- slow it down. It burns.” You slurred, body not listening as you tried to shift it, rocks and gravel digging uncomfortably into your hip and ribs as you lay sprawled on your side. You moaned out, unable to stop the effect it was having on your tone. “Kriff, it burns.”

“Mesh’la, ad’ika, he’s-“ Static took over his connection, a cacophony of sounds filtering in from the other side, from where he must still be back at the make shift camp. “He’s healing Karga.”

“Mirdala ad'ika.  Kaysh's bid jate,” You tried to breath in, but it only resulted in a harsher wheeze, pain striking long down the entirety of your chest. “N-ner kar'ta, ni liser't sur'ar. Ni liser't nari”

Clever boy. He’s so good. M-my heart, I can’t concentrate. I can’t move.

“Ni liser't haa'taylir gar. Enteyor cuyir too chaaj'yc.  Mesh'la, ni'm bid Ni ceta. Gedet'ye, kebbur at taylir bat.  Ni'll yaimpar at te Crest, Ni'll mar'eyir gar.”

I can’t see you, too far. Mesh’la, I’m so sorry. Please, try to hold on. I’ll get the Crest. I’ll find you.

You could hear him rustling around, gathering his things and no doubt scooping ad’ika’s small form up and securing him in his pod. Cara’s voice floated through the speaker, too distant for your tunneled ears to hear but her tone was distressed. No doubt picking up on the rising panic you could feel in Din even from the distance, so connected to him you already were.

An argument seemed to break out, voices filtering over the line in a jumble. A blaster was fired and then silence.

“Nayc, ner kar'ta.  Te aka. Gedet'ye, sur'ar bat te aka. Par ad'ika.”

No, my heart. The mission. Please concentrate on the mission. For ad’ika.

“Mesh’la…” He was torn, you could tell by the bated breath sparking static through the line, doubly so from his modulator beforehand. But he had to keep on the task at hand, he had made a decision, he had to stick to it and see it through. You would be okay, you managed to say over the line, fingers tingling as they began to reach for your shoulders. It was dark save for the ethereal glowing of the lava that flowed all around you, the sound of it like broken glass tumbling a hum in the back of your mind.

“I’m going to try to heal it, but…” You winced, a heavy exhale as the tips of your fingers gently prodded the torn fabric and broken metal had been meant to protect you. You closed your eyes to focus, pulling on the wisps of the Force all around you.

“You’ll lose consciousness, it’s not safe.”

“Safer than letting the poison take, I’ll find you, ner kar’ta. I’ll find you in the town.” You managed to get the words out, though they were weak and barely audible over the open line.

“Promise me.” He demanded, though his tone was anything but harsh, it sounded strained, quiet, pulled from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t respond, mind scrambled as you forced yourself to focus. The injuries causing you to warble out a pathetic sound as they began to heal in rapid time. The pain cascaded down your body, the poison being cured in your veins lighting you up. Black edged your vision, clouded your unseeing eyes before it took over completely, your exhausted mind going blank as unconsciousness took over.

“You’re quieter than usual.” Cara tried to break the silence. It wasn’t tense nor uncomfortable, it just was and it was beginning to get to her.

“I have nothing to say.” Din’s modulator didn’t give away the tension he was carrying in every nerve of his body. Thoughts on a loop, mind replaying the events of the night before.

“I know, I’m worried too, but…she’s strong. She can take care of herself.”

“Not if she’s unconscious. Using whatever it is, the- Force, she calls it, takes its toll. Tires her out, much like the child.”

“He’s been more vocal since last night, doesn’t seem to affect him the same way.”

“He’s fighting sleep, he’s probably trying to reach out to her.” Ad’ika had indeed been agitated since the attack last night, constantly shifting when his eyes weren’t closed in obvious meditation. But he would always huff and return to fidgeting after trying to focus himself.

“I thought he didn’t talk?” She turned to pin him with a raised eyebrow, unsure if he had misspoken or she had misheard him.

“She tried to explain it to me once, but to be honest, I didn’t understand it. She said it’s like…hearing another’s thoughts in your own mind. Can relay emotions, feelings, words, even memories and visions if one concentrates hard enough.”

“And you think he’s trying to reach out to her? That’s why he won’t give in to sleep?”

“Yes. He’s attached to her, they have a bond that…means something, it’s important. Two individuals from the same background reunited. ”

“Mando…he’s bonded with you too. He knows you’re doing everything you can to protect him, saved him from the Imps once already. Kriff, you’re walking into a trap for him. All to ensure that he can no longer be afraid.”

“Here we are.” Karga announced as they approached the door leading into the cantina that acted as a basis for Guild operation. Din deliberately dragged his foot as he stepped up, making a show of stumbling in his cuffs as Karga’s arm wrapped right around his own to guide him into the space. “You see? Four.”

Din seethed as the client from before came into view, standing from his seat tucked into a booth. All he could think was:

Is this one of the men who manipulated you into serving them?

Was he one of the men who forced you to do their bidding and help with research?

Take your blood and anything else he wanted from you by force?

Torture and taunt you to the point that you gave into those feelings and allowed for your powers to become tainted as you had confessed to him?

Was this one of the men who had you waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with echoes of screams on your lips?

“Look what I brought you. As promised.”

“What exquisite craftmanship.” The man reverently ran the back of his hand over the beskar cuirass that decorated Din’s chest, up toward the helmet he had been wearing since he had sworn the Creed. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. I am relieved you do not have any scorch marks from the blade of such a violent woman with whom you’ve taken for your own as the child. She has a tendency to strike those down who command her. But yet, I do not see her present. What became of her?”

“She was taken by a reptavian when our camp was attacked during our travels here.”

“Shame, we could’ve used a specimen such as herself once again.”

Din bristled internally at the way the man prattled on about you as if you were a thing, something to own and control and take from.

“Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

“I would be obliged.” Karga bowed his head slightly, trying to play into his natural sense of self.

“Please sit.” The man observed them as they situated themselves across from him. Taking in the way Din was still such a formidable visage even cuffed and captured. Speaking, his tone gave way to the insidious notions and rhetoric that he had sworn himself to, tried to carry out in every action he could. His belief in the Empire and what they stood for blinding in its intensity.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos. I would like to see the baby.”

“It is asleep.”

“We all will be quiet.” He leaned in closer, one arm outstretched outward. “Open the pram.”

Radio chatter cut the tension, a storm trooper sidling up to the table to relay something to the man who had just prattled on about power and the imposition of rule he worked for and aided in controlling towns, cities, lives.

“Don’t think me to be rude. I must take this call.”

“Give me the blaster.” Din spoke as lowly as he could, instincts telling him the situation was about to shift.

“You get one shot.” Karga swiftly handed it back to him underneath the cover of the table, Cara stepping closer to hear what they were saying and offer her own worries.

“This is bad. You said four. Sarad was right.”

“Well, there are more and she was right. What can I tell you?”

From across the room, Din could hear the hushed conversation the man was having, helmet aiding him and allowing for most of it to be as clear as if he was beside them.

“Have they brought the child and the woman?”

“The woman was lost to a creature native to the lava flats. But the child, yes they have. Currently, it is sleeping.”

“You may want to check again. There are reports of troopers being taken out on the outskirts of town.”

Din felt his heart thud at the words, relief flooding him like adrenaline did when he closed in on a target after tracking them down. You were okay, you had made it to the town. You were doing your best to take out the threat where you could, most likely silently or maybe even outwardly cursing Karga’s flimsy answer of ‘four’ as you efficiently took down as many as that with each move throughout the city streets. A smirk quirked the armored man’s lips as he pictured you mumbling about it quietly as you struck your saber and cut down unsuspecting soldiers standing at guard points.

Suddenly a blaster bolt broke through the window, shattering the glass above the bar and hitting the client square in the chest. His body slumped to the ground as bolts rained in through the window in fast succession.

Amidst the chaos, a figure slipped in through a side door, the telltale hum of your light saber blocking the fired shots and they neared where Din and the others had sought safety. A storm trooper approached, dodging the hits as they came through and fired a few of their own toward the approaching figure.

But you cut them down with a swing of your blade to their middle, searing through the armor easily and getting to the bowels of the person underneath. With a gurgle and spray of blood that trickled in thick drips down beneath their helmet, they fell to the ground.

Everything stilled.

An ominous line of black armored figures could be seen through the now thoroughly broken window, ash from the concrete of the decimated building bloomed up into the air.

“Mesh’la, we overheard you were taking out soldiers on the comm line, good job.” He nodded towards you, his entire body tense as the situation dissolved far too quickly to get a handle on it. As soon as you were safely in

“Anything to help, you know that, burc’ya.” You couldn’t bring yourself to use the nickname you had hazily recalled using with him over your personal comm link the night before. It had been too forward of you. Foolish to display such strong emotions, despite the serious conversation all those rotations ago when he committed himself to you with the intention of courtship. Too real and entirely daunting to feel so completely and all-encompassing for a man that had once been tracking you on a commissioned job.

“But those ones are gonna be a little different. It took everything for me to take them out the last time I encountered them, ended up having to use a plasma grenade.” You nodded out the window, toward the line of black armored storm troopers. “They’re known as Death Troopers.”

As you spoke, the hush of an approaching vehicle could be heard as it wound its way in front of the building. A whole platoon of white armored soldiers spilling out and lining up in an organized ambush, waiting for the call to move.

“Four stormtroopers?” Cara spit to Karga, still hung up on the flimsy lie the man had tried to sell you all.

“This is bad.”

“Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet? Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Kriff, burc’ya, the transmission is coming in clear to my cuff. Lines have been hacked and set to be intercepted by every link within range.”

He turned to you, comm link still raised to the front of his helmet, his eyes heavy on you through the visor. All you could do was nod to your vambrace, where the transmission he had just spoke had rung out from on the lowest setting, the static feedback warbling out as he disengaged his open line. Something was said under his breath, too low for you to catch it but he continued on once the Ugnaught’s response finally crackled through.

“Yes!”

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!”

The roaring of a ship was loud, the distinct sound of it making the hair on the back of your neck rise up and goosebumps prickle on your skin. The humming of your saber became loud, crackling almost before it waned and then flared, the slightest tinge to the white lighting up your face. It went out as you lowered it, stepping closer to the window and out from your spot hidden behind a pillar. You were out in the open, visible clearly through the broken window and yet no shots were taken. The line of soldiers on the other side focused on you, weapons raised but made no move to shoot.

“Sarad, what are you doing?” Cara’s whisper was harsh, confusion and worry coloring her words as you focused entirely on the incoming TIE fighter. She shared a look with Din across the room, unsure of what to do.

He took one step to bridge the gap with a soft whisper of your name, hand lifted slightly as he prepared to rest it on your shoulder or wrap it around your waist and pull you to him, to safety. A blaster bolt was silent as it ricocheted off his cuirass, making him retreat out of sight once again, the sound drowned out by the TIE Fighter as it soared closer, beginning to descend. The sound of it gliding through the air branded into your synapses. Taunting you in your sleep, stealing your attention during the day when something too similar a key could be heard nearby.

“No.”

“What is it?”

“No!” You shouted out, saber blade springing to life and glowing a threatening red. Everyone’s eyes were on you, from the people behind you, trapped alongside you to the armored soldiers on the other side of the flimsy partition that the outside wall of the cantina was acting as. They were speaking into their comm links, relaying in real time what they were seeing with their own eyes to whoever had stationed them there. And you had an idea of exactly who it was.

“Mesh’la.” Din’s voice was muffled, blood roaring in your veins as your entire body lit up with adrenaline and overwhelmed your senses. His steps were quiet, though you could sense that he had moved closer, a hesitant hand outstretched toward you in a second attempt. No shots were fired this time, the ominous humming and glow of your weapon making the soldiers pinning you down rethink immediate fire.

“You didn’t say it was a Moff!” You whirled around and pinned Karga was a glare, debris and broken glassware lifting into the air around you as you approached the man with measured steps. Loose strands of your hair curling up with the same focused energy tingling all around you in tune with your ragged emotions. “You’ve led us to a trap that’s going to end up with all of us dead and me back in chains!”

“Let’s everybody just-“

“If you tell me to calm down, Maker, help me…” You rounded on Cara, brow furrowed in anger and eyes glinting. “This is bad, this is….Fuck!”

The bottles still on the shelves of the bar underneath the window to the disarrayed furniture rattled as you turned to Din, desperation seeping into your very nerves.

“We need to abandon this mission, it’s fruitless. Please. Now.”

“You have something I want.”

“No. No, no, no.” The chant was quiet, jaw clenching with the effort it was taking to reign yourself in. You scrambled to tamp down the rage boiling up inside you, filling you with negative feelings and the urge to strike out at any cost. Thoughts of revenge flitting around your mind as the man’s whose voice you last heard had been when you lost the person closest to you.

“Take this, please.” You thrusted the handle of your saber into one of Din’s gloved hands, holding it to his palm until his fingers curled around the metal. Memories of blood splatter, a damaged helmet, a lifeless body, debris from an explosion and smoke-filled air took over your senses. The tang of metallic blood, so much of it, made you dizzy though you know it was only a recollection it shifted something in you, something strong wrapping its tendrils around you and tightening its hold. “I-I can’t be trusted with it right now; the pull is too strong.”

“Who’s this guy?”

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not. Not all of you at least.”

Din was hesitant to take the weapon from you, to leave you at a disadvantage in the face of such an organized threat. But the desperation and terror in your eyes prompted him to wrap his fingers firmly around it and take it from your hold. When your shoulders lost tension and you breathed out a held breath with a heavy sigh, he knew he had made the right decision. Nodding to you as you took a few steps away from him, he tucked it into a rung of his belt and brough the comm link up. Another attempt to reach Kuill, static over the silent line.

“In a few moments, it will be mine.” The strong voice was easily projected, confident and sure in it’s words. The man to whom it belonged knew that he had the high ground. “It means more to me than you will ever know.”

Desperation was begging to wave off of the armored man beside you as he raised his voice, his need for a response spiking his anxiety and triggering your own. The lack of response from the Ugnaught was worrying, he wouldn’t simply ignore an attempt at communication. Something must be wrong. And then it hit you.  

Suddenly, you felt a pulse of the Force, legs buckling with the weight of it.

Already so much stronger as your emotions warred inside, allowing crevices for the dark pull of the Force to trickle in and bring the rotten, snubbed roots of it back to life.

“Din,” You whispered, reaching out to steady yourself only for your nails to rake across the pillar as you felt the heaviness settle all throughout your body, making your limbs impossible to control. You fell to the ground, looking up at the visor aimed at you with tears in your eyes. “They have him.”

“Is there another way out?” Cara demanded, needing to know how screwed you all were, if there was any hope of making a run for it.

“No, that’s it.” Karga seemed to look over the cantina, eyes sweeping over the debris and the expanse of walls that surrounded you.

“What about the sewers?” You suggested, voice tight through clenched teeth. At your words, Cara was up on her feet and moving away from the open bay of the broken window. She gathered up a massive blaster that had been abandoned, checking the levels on it and ensuring it was operable.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers.” Din praised your thoughtful words, thinking back to how the covert had come to his rescue the last time he had been in the city. That you had managed to track them down and converse with them on his behalf, for his benefit. He activated a viewpoint on his helmet, visor scanning the room. He pointed to a space occupied by a booth, saying there was an entrance hidden behind it. “If we can get down there they can help us escape.”

“Yeah, sewers are good.” Cara opened fire on the grate, but the metal didn’t so much as creak or glow from the assault. Behind her, Din watched, hoping to kick out the plate of metal as soon as it was weak enough.  

When the harsh barrage from the massive gun didn’t cause the grate to yield, both of them turned to where you were trying to get back on your legs. Back pressed heavily to the pillar for support, your shaking hands did their best to help steady yourself.

“Mesh’la-”

“I can’t. I can’t use it right now, it’s not…it’s not a good idea.” You knew what he was asking, demanding of you in a last-ditch effort to find an escape. But it was risky, the power ebbing and flowing through you too uncertain and unpredictable to give into. You had given into it once before and it had taken everything from you, it had taken everything you had to overcome it and you thought you had managed to but that was proving to be a false narrative.

“We need you to!” Cara backed him up, telling you more plainly that the man had intended to.

“You don’t know what you’re asking!” You shouted back, temper flaring at your lack of control of yourself, weakness shining in the worst moment possible.

“C’mon, you’re the only hope we have of getting out of here.” She pleaded with you, words heavy exhales as she panted. The reality of the situation sinking further and further in as the seconds ticked on by and the E-Web was quickly assembled outside.

“I can’t!” Voice impossibly high and nearly hysterical, you could feel yourself shaking, limbs trembling as you tried to keep upright on them. The dark tendrils wrapped around your subconscious tightening and infecting your thoughts with motives of revenge and anger so strong you could feel sweat begin to bead along the back of your neck and in between your shoulder blades.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay, we’ll figure something else out.” Din appeased, not wanting to force you to do something you didn’t want. Not wanting to force you to use the very powers you were afraid of in that moment. Heeding your wishes to drop it, to not call attention to it as best he could.

“Like what! We’re all dead and she can prevent it!” Cara rounded from you and back to him, tongue sharp and words like knives as she aimed them at him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to hurt yourself, why are you asking it of me?” You snarled, eyes glinting as the anger at her question flared something hot and prickling inside of you. It wasn’t what you really felt, but it was being manipulated, the slight hurt of being asked something so significant in the wake of your denial, into something dangerous and cloying.

“Hurt?” They both turned to face away from the sealed grate, confusion and worry in both of their voices, Cara’s brow furrowed and a grimace twisting her features as she realized it wasn’t such a simple request she was demanding of you. You were holding yourself up against the pillar, entire body tense and teeth gritted as you nearly vibrated in your convulsions.

“I-I can’t control it right now, the pull is too strong, I can’t fight it.” You hung your head between your shoulders, palms flat on the pillar as you fought the power sparkling and crackling through your veins, almost painful in its ferocity. A bottle on the bar shelf shattered, vibrant blue liquor exploding into the air along with the thick glass. Another followed it, your limbs shaking as you tried to reign it in.

“You don’t have to, she doesn’t have to. If she says she can’t, then we move onto the next option.” Din was torn, he wanted to comfort you, take you into his arms and wrap his own around your shaking form but they needed to find a way to escape. He needed to lead everyone to safety, needed to ensure everyone saw the light of tomorrow.

“Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration. Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Tropper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model.”

Cara lowered the large weapon in her grip, disbelief at the exact parameters of her identity being prattled off obvious. She hadn’t been aware that anyone had been keeping tabs on her, let alone that closely and now she had been found here on this errant mission on an outer rim planet no one cared about. But that’s what he did, this man facing the broken window flanked by a line of black armored figures, white armored ones fanning out behind him in a sea of dizzying and formidable numbers. He found out everything about those he sought out and used it against them.

And he was about to expose you next. Knowing you from both personal and professional interactions, he was the one to deliver the ultimatum that resulted in your unwilling join up to the very cause that had tried to take you out as a child. 

“San of Kath, as the once esteemed Sith apprentice, can surely back up those claims with her own firsthand encounter with the same machinery which resulted in the death of her beloved Mandalorian guardian Akiz Noves. Whose surname she’s adapted in the wake of such a tragic event that could have been entirely prevented.

Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter who has taken her under his watch, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordinance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears. And I do thank you, graciously, for digging her out of whatever hole she had crawled into.”

At the announcement of his name, Din looked to the ground, thoughts firing and mind working as fast as it could. His name, Maker, his full name was now known to everyone on the planet, a dangerous thing for someone of his standing.

“I advise the disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end. Upon retrieval of her body, San will be taken back into custody and revived. To spend the rest of her days aiding in the research her blood will allow to flourish.”

“What do you propose?”

“Reasonable negotiation.”

“What assurance do you offer.

“If you’re asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand.” You were shaking your head, trying to fight off the ever present and growing darkness winding its way through your body. “The assurance I give is this, I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time, involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.

“I say we hear him out.” Karga suggested, not seeing another way to escape.

“The minute we open that door, we’re dead.” Cara countered, her own temper flaring as the severity of the situation weighed in her own body.

“We’re dead if we don’t.”

“At least out there we’ve got a shot.” She busied herself with checking the mechanics of her weapon, hoping that it was strong and charged enough to last her through a fight should one arise, bound to happen at moment’s notice.

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m a Rebel Shock Trooper. They’ll upload me to a Mind Flayer.”

“Those aren’t real. That was just wartime propaganda.”

“No. It wasn’t.” You admitted from your position kneeled on the ground behind a pillar. All eyes in the room fell to you, not even realizing you had crouched down in your internal struggle. You rose to your full height, shoulders rolling as you peered out to get a better look at the man begin to walk away, his cape flowing with the movement of his steps. You had seen the mechanics of the fabled flayer first hand, had been threatened with it far too many times to comfort her with a lie.

“What about you, Mando?” Questioning gaze turned to the man who was focused on you, on the way your fingers were twitching in your leather gloves. The way your legs were trembling and your breath was being shakily exhaled with every nearly panting intake.

“I know who he is. I’m sure you do too.” He nodded towards you, watching the way you couldn’t tear your eyes from the retreating figure.

“It’s Moff Gideon.” The announcement was heavy in the air, the name holding a weight to it as it was spoken aloud.

“No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes.” A nod of the woman’s head a dismissal.

“It’s him. He knew my name.” Din insisted, knowing he was right. Knowing that you were aware of who the man was as well.

“So? What does that prove?”

“I haven’t heard that name spoken since I was a child. With the…exception of Sarad seldom using it.”

Cara’s brow arched as she turned to you with a twitch of her lips. If the situation wasn’t so charged you were sure she would tease you over it.

“On Mandalore?”

“I was not born on Mandalore.”

“But you’re a Mandalorian.” The surprise in the older man’s voice made your heart flutter, keeping the darkness at bay as you realized how much Din trusted you to have shared so much about himself with you. Yes, you knew about the culture of his people, but his name, the snippets of his past. IT had all been given to you freely and with great care and trust.

“Mandalorian isn’t a race.”

“It’s a Creed.” He turned to look out the window, gauging the soldiers lined up and waiting, the sea of them going back as far as his helmet allowed him to see. “I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the purge. That’s how I know it’s him.” 

“That’s how he knows who we all are.”

“He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely. I was worried when the Ugnaught didn’t respond, but if they’d captured the kid, we’d already be dead. Mesh’la can you try to reach out and connect with him? I don’t want to ask it of you, but it’s important.”

“I already tried, I can’t feel him. He’s most likely in shock.”

He tried the comm link one last time, but it was nothing but static.

“They might have jammed the link, like she said.”

“If I were to-“ You didn’t face them, aware of how they were nearly spitting at each other behind your back, the charged atmosphere of the ravaged cantina getting to everyone.

“No.” Din cut you off, voice low and rumbling from him with a force he hadn’t used on you yet.

“We can’t trust him, he’s going to fire that thing on us no matter what we do.” Cara spoke, holding a handout to you, urging you not to turn yourself in hopes of a chance for them to get away, to escape the situation that seemed to be hopeless. She wasn’t sure if she would even be able to hold you back, but she would try. She would do whatever it took to get you to safety and away from the possibility of being taken back into the hands of those you had escaped. Feeling so strongly that you deserved better, that you needed her to help look out for you with the trust she had been given with hesitant words and bonding conversations after deeming her worthy of them.

“She’s right, he’s not going to hold to his word. Even if we give into what he wants.”

“He’s got ad’ika! At least if I turn myself in he won’t be alone, I can argue for our safety while in his custody.”

“You can’t.” the modulated words were hard, an edge to them.

“I’ve been a part of their regime before, maybe…maybe that still means something to them. If I’m willing to help them with whatever research their conduction or experiments they’re doing I can ensure ad’ika remains alive. If the last apprentice fell, if the last Sith fell, they- they need me. They need what I can do to enforce their return to power.”

“They would take you as a prisoner, you have a history of betraying them. There is no chance of this turning out how you’re thinking it will. Not this time.” That same edge coated the words, his urging you to see the fruitless attempt at your thinking of a way to sacrifice yourself for them.

“Willingness to contribute has to count for something.”

“It doesn’t and you know that.”

“He wants me, Din. He wants me alive. He wants ad’ika. But you, all of you, he’ll cast aside without a second thought. I can ensure your safety, barter for it with my concession.” You whirled around to face them, cape flipping up with the motion and flaring out behind you. You could sense how more than a few of the soldiers outside curled their fingers around the triggers of their blasters, nearly giving into the urge to fire.

“I won’t let you.” He growled out, voice striking you and overpowering the dark tint edging more and more over your mind and body.

“You-you don’t control me.” Your eyes met the dark visor that concealed his eyes, wanting for all the worlds in the galaxy to see them clearly. Look into them and let him know that while you had given parts of yourself to him, that he truly had no control over you. That it was all given to him, shared with him, that you had chosen to do so with the understanding that power over you was something he didn’t want. And that if he were to try and play on that, you wouldn’t let him get away with it. He must’ve read all of that and more in your intense gaze because he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders rolling as he felt the power emanating from you even across the space of the room.

“No, I don’t. But I will not be the reason you are taken back to a life you do not want, a life you ran from. I will not.”

Suddenly ad’ika’s cooing burst to life over the line.

Brightness flared in your chest, relief flooding you at the happy sounds of the precious being.

“Kuiil has been terminated.” The modulated voice of IG-11 came through the connection loud and clear, the sound of strong wind a harsh background noise. Din seemed frozen, body stiff and shoulders tense as he slowly brought the comm link up to the front of his helmet once more.

“What did you do?”

“I am fulfilling my base function.” The rather ominous statement didn’t settle well, fueling Din to growl into the communication, voice dark and holding a promised threat should anything befall the child at the hands of the droid.

“Which is?”

“To nurse and protect.”

An explosion further off in the city erupted, the attention of the soldiers out front diverted. Din approached you cautiously with your weapon held tight, the leather of his gloves crinkling as he went over the chances of something in his head. As he did so, Karga downed another shot from the bottle he had snuck closer to his hiding spot.

“I need you to try,” He pressed the handle to your palms, suddenly in front of you, mirroring your actions from earlier. You looked up into the visor with a furrowed brow, lips downturned as emotions flooded you. Fear, worry, anxiety, anger. “For ad’ika, you need to try and fight whatever it is you’re afraid of. For me.”

“What if I can’t? What if it takes over? I-I won’t be the same, I don’t want you to see me that way.”

“It’ll be okay, I’ll help in whatever way I can if that’sfoohouhad the case.” He leaned in and pressed the cool beskar of his helmet to your forehead, comforting you with the small motion in the only way he could at the moment. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips a thin line as you tried to take what he was offering and use it to help center yourself. “We need to fight our way out of here, it’s the only way.”

You brought a hand up to rest along the side of his helmet, palms sweaty despite the leather gloves you adorned. The action pulled you into his space, one of his own hands coming around to settle at your waist. A whispered acquiescence soft and only for the man pressed up against you.  You could feel the gaze of the other two people in the room focused on your embrace in fleeting moments as they realized the next move. You ignored them, trying to match Din’s even breathing and center yourself despite the pulsing darkness that had invaded your very being. 

He only pulled away when the sound of a speeder broke the stillness outside. Blaster fire filling the air.

It was IG-11, bursting into the scene with a pouch secured to it’s middle, small green ears peeking out from the opening. The droid jumped from the bike, firing not ceasing, allowing for the speeder to crash into a group of the clustered soldiers, taking them out in a small explosion. Din pulled you tighter against the front of his body, raising his blaster with the other as he tugged you behind a pillar. You stayed nestled close to him, his left arm over your shoulders and resting at the small of your back. With a look, you nodded, knowing it was now or never. The only chance of trying to escape.

“Cover me.” He announced to the room, aware that everyone else was on the same page.

He was a force the second he was out the door.

Cara laying fire for him to catch them off guard. You were right behind him, saber tight in your grip and glowing a faint red. But as soon as you laid it into the first rushing soldier it turned a bright white. The feeling of protection and fighting alongside Din keeping the twining darkness under control. Behind you, Karga brushed past you, knowing to flank his other side and spread out to cover as much ground as possible.

Rushing away, you found yourself surrounded by a few of the Death Troopers, the others of the faction circling around Din. He stumbled back as a bolt landed on his left pauldron. Allowing them to knock him off his feet completely, but you had to focus on yourself. You knew he was a strong fighter, had faith in his abilities and his determination.

It was chaos, the entire scene loud and bright with flashes of blaster bolts from every direction, steam and ash rising up from fallen bodies and hit buildings. The hum of your saber falling into the noise with ease as you wielded it effortlessly, taking out anyone who dared to step toward you.

When the echoing clang of IG-11 falling rang out, you turned just in time to see Din make a run toward the E-Web. He displayed his strength by lifting it from the base it was attached to and began to fire toward the cluster of armor that had targeted ad’ika’s charge.

You caught sight of a Death Trooper flanked by a few in white approach the door to the cantina, a grenade in their hand that they attached to the door. With a shout you reached out with a hand and flung them away, but the boom of the explosion was set in motion. Soldiers slunk into the now accessible building, garners a glance from Din and Karga both.

But your focus was on the figure of Moff Gideon, the man approaching the outskirts of the scene with his eyes solely trained on Din’s form. You flinched when rage and murderous intent bloomed harshly, only able to watch as the man landed a hit with his own blaster to the top of Din’s helmet. Causing the Mandalorian to grunt out in pain and lose his hold on the large weapon he had turned against those who intended to use it.

Your entire body was burning as you weaved your way through soldiers and fired shots toward the man, seeing the way that Din exposed completely. Picking up the weapon into his arms once again, Din turned it on the threatening figure of Gideon as he aimed his blaster directly at his target. Mere steps separated you when he changed the aim toward the charging dock for the weapon and fired.

You brought your arms up to shield your face from the explosion, debris and the roar of fire loud in your ears, causing them to ring.

You could only watch through the flames and smoke as the tall, broad figure of Din fall to the ground across the courtyard. The light of your saber harsh as you cut down one, two, three stormtroopers as they advanced on you even in the wake of the explosion. Gideon was hidden, form disappearing in the eruption of flames and smoke caused by the bolt of his blaster. Black armor a protective wall around him.

You kept turning back to Din, mind distracted when the beskar didn’t glint with his standing, motionless on the ground you shouted out with a hoarseness to your voice that bid no argument.

“Din!” You shouted, hoping the sound of your voice would rouse him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. Unconscious, injured, dead. Every thought focused on him as you felt a wave of energy and you directed it to throw the blur of white closing in on you away. The blade in your hand crackled, starting those approaching you, making them pause as they contemplated the threat you made. When it hummed with intensity, white diluting to red, some of them turned on their heels and retreated.

“Cara! Get him to safety!” You ordered, seeing her peeking out from the busted door, Karga close enough to help her by laying protective shots at those closing in on them. IG-11 was just behind them, the bag holding the child still secure around their middle. Just as they cleared the threshold, you swiped your right hand out and scattered the bodies following them with a wave of focused intent. Another wave of your hand had door closing behind them, thankful for the metal being able to withstand the explosion by sliding back into the crevice that protected it.

You were so focused on making sure they were protected that you didn’t sense the blade at the end of a staff hurling toward you until it was too late. You shouted out as it dug into your shoulder, the handle of your saber flying from your grip. But you recovered quickly, feeling the darkness flare inside of you. The saber flew back to you as you raised your hand and when it ignited once again, it was glowing a bright red. Crackling sounded harshly as you cut down every soldier that swarmed you.

Gideon watched on, commanding the Death Troopers to burn out the rest of your group from their hiding place.

“Stay with me, buddy.” Cara grunted, hauling Din’s broad form into the deepest part of the cantina, as far away from the window and cracks in the walls as possible. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“This is our only path out. Can you clear it?” Karga’s voice was hoarse, the dire turn of events beginning to wane on him. IG-11 heeded the command, following close behind the older man as he moved debris out of the way of the still sealed gate. He watched with glances as Cara laid Din’s body against a slab of wall that had fallen and crumbled, making sure he was propped up slightly.

“Stay with me,” She whispered to him, desperate for him to hear her though she wasn’t sure he could in the state he was in. She ignored the heated exchange of IG-11 threatening Karga over the child, focused completely on Din. Worry for you as she realized you hadn’t followed them in, that you were still out there in courtyard.

Panting suddenly burst from beneath the helmet, Din rousing from unconsciousness.

“Whe-where is she?” His voice was wrecked, barely able to make out the words from his throbbing head.

“She’s still taking some of them down, she’s making it easier for us to run if we can manage to get down into the sewers.” Cara tried her best to assure him, though she couldn’t school her face into a comforting expression. Blood trickled into one of her eyes from a cut caused by something that had flown up in the explosion.

“What col-color is her-“ His voice cut off in a harsh cough, throat constricting.

“She’s okay.”

“No,” He made a move to shove up from his position, but Cara placed a firm hand on his cuirass and pressed him back down as carefully as she could. “I need to help her.”

“Mando, no. You need to stay still until we can get you out of here.”

He fell silent, the only sound coming from him his wheezing breaths. Nearly rattling in the way he tried to gulp in any air that he could.

“I’m not gonna make it.” He admitted, turning his helmet from the partial view out the broken window and to the woman hovering beside him. “Go.”

“Shut up. You just got your bell rung. You’ll be fine.”

“Leave me.” Din insisted, not hearing her, not able to hear her through the pain washing over him and the throbbing in his head. It was hard to concentrate, but he had to try. Let her know, let you know that they’re safety was the most important thing now. “Get her and go.”

Cara lifted her hand from where she was trying to help support shoulders, blood thick over her fingers as it had trickled down from beneath the helmet. She was suddenly reaching for the helmet with both hands, knowing it was risky but wanting to ensure she did everything in her power to save the man in front of her.

“I’m gonna need to take this thing off.”

“No!” Din choked out, hands flying up to grip the woman’s wrists tight and prevent her from lifting it, from seeing the damage inflicted on him. “You get her and you leave me.”

“She’s not going to leave you and neither am I!”

“You make sure ad’ika is safe, that Sarad is safe.” He let go of her wrists, pushing them weakly away from him, aware that the attention of the child and Karga was on them both faintly. “She has – a pendant of mine. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, have her show it to them. You tell them it’s from Din Djarin. She’ll know what else to say.”

“We can make it.” Cara shifted atop her bent legs, anxious as to why you hadn’t reconvened with them yet. But she felt the pressure to move, the need to move. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m not gonna make it and you know it.” His voice was barely a wheeze, carrying his words in a shaky exhale.

Cara was about to haul him up into her arms once again when flames erupted through the open bay of the window, loud and hissing as they bloomed from the handled flamethrower in a soldier’s hands. It was faint, but a shout from you could be heard beyond the building. It urged the child to move toward his guardian.

With the cantina now enflamed, the heat of it cloistering, IG-11 quickly worked on getting the grate broken down for them to slip into the underground tunnels. Din, similarly, realized if you had been able to return, you would’ve.

“You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death.” As he said it, Din felt a heaviness in his heart that he wouldn’t get to see you one last time. A silent thanks to the Maker for having chosen to hold you to him not even an hour ago before the fighting broke out. He wished for the feel of your hands on his face, the weight of you leaning into him, the look in your eyes as you gazed into the visor. Just one last time, but the universe was cruel. Stealing him of a last moment with you. “This is the Way.”

As the tip of the flamethrower forced it’s way through the broken door, Cara laid herself over Din, protecting him however she could as a plume of flames was aimed at them. The soldier wielding the weapon barged into the room on heavy steps, raising it to aim at them again, closer and no doubt intending to harm them from such a close range.

But the child. He harnessed what little energy he had from the long stressful night, the too hectic and emotional day and stood to his full stature. He raised his hands as he had seen you do countless times, focusing on the energy around him like you tried to teach him.

The flames inches closer but as they nearly licked at their bodies, air dry and hard to breath in, they stalled. Held at bay as the child maintained his focus and controlled the energy in the very air to prevent them from moving any closer. With a flip of his hands, the soldier was flung back as he tried to mimic the ways in which you would toss people. The flamethrower erupted, unable to handle the combustion of energy thrown its way. As soon as the threat was taken care of, the child plopped down, exhausted. A faint whine leaving him as he looked over to Din, making sure he had done a good job in protecting him.

You were flying into the building the second the explosion had ceased, cape billowing behind you as you slid on your knees beside him, nearly toppling over Din’s collapsed and still form in the process. Cara barely managed to sidestep you, caught off guard by how you nearly threw yourself at the man she had been trying to tend to through the wall of flames. She stood, keeping an eye out the window and crumbling walls in case anyone dared to try and breach the building again.

“Din! I saw you go down, I thought…” You didn’t dare press yourself to him, fear of hurting him further at the front of your mind as you took in the soaked fabric of his cowl and cape around his neck and shoulders. It was saturated with dark, viscous blood. Panic stricken, you reach for his shoulders, the beskar of his pauldrons still cool to the touch despite the fire raging in pockets all around the room.

“San.” He wheezed out, unable to believe that you were right there in front of him. The errant thought of dread as he realized you would be present to watch him die. That you would carry it with you the rest of your own life. And for that, he had regrets. But not in meeting you, not in getting to know you, for you to allow him that privilege.  

“Ner kar’ta, please. We need to see how bad the damage is.” You lifted your hands and placed them on the sides of his helmet, tears burning in the backs of your eyes.

“N-no.” His own hands were trembling as he lifted them to wrap around your own and bring them down to rest atop his chest, the cuirass rising and falling slowly with his wheezing breaths. “Take the pendant, find the covert. Tell them I sent you, tell them about Akiz and ad’ika.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.” They were weak, barely sounding from you as he leaned down to rest your forehead atop his hands holding your own. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to. Protect ad’ika, protect yourself. Please, live.”

“Din, I can’t. I can’t leave you. Ner kar’ta, you don’t know what you’re asking.” Lifting your head back up, you tried to look into the visor, vision blurring, the tears finally falling from your lashes to rain hot down your cheeks. He lifted a gloved hand to wipe them from you, his movements weak and stilted. He didn’t surge up nor did he pull you closer toward him, but he cupped the side of your face and whispered to you.

“Ner kar’ta, that’s a new nickname.”

“It’s true.” You whispered back, trying to focus on the sound of his voice, even in its wrecked and wheezing state, devoting it to your memory. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to the cool beskar of his helmet, eyes clenching shut. “Din, please, let me heal you.”

“You can’t, it’ll take all of your strength and you need it to get ad’ika to safety.”

“Din…”

The collapse of part of the ceiling of the enflamed building made you jump, his own body jostling as it caused the ground to rumble all throughout what was left of the building.

“Go!” His voice was rasping, the volume of his demand cutting through his throat as it projected. His hands pushed you away weakly, a last ditch effort for him to get to you leave him. With tears in your eyes you let him use what strength he had left and shifted your body away from him. Knees creaking with the effort to force yourself to stand, to move away from the man that had come to mean so much to you. To leave him, bloodied and beaten on the verge of death in the wreckage of a building that would become his final resting place.

He coughed wetly, the volume of his voice hurting and straining him even more.

“Come on! It’s open, let’s go!” Karga shouted, not wanting to drag out the moment any longer lest more soldiers find a way through the flames. He disappeared down into the darkness beyond the grate. The droid standing guard on the outside of it.

Cara scooped up the child, ensuring he was safe in her hold before she followed after them. Giving you a moment alone with Din, hoping you would follow behind her. You watched her, ensuring she made it down through the grate with little trouble. Soft words had you wiping back to Din, his hands still gripping your own though his strength was nearly gone.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Gedet'ye, slanar.”

I love you. Please, go.

His words were a whispered gift, one of the last things he hoped he could provide for you. The phrase cradled in the caress of his low voice, heard over the roaring flames of the fire and the crumbling concrete of the building that slowly closed collapsed around you both. He slid his hands from around yours, urging you to move. It took all of your strength to leave him behind, feeling the shape he had imbedded into your heart aching with every step toward the entrance into the underground tunnels. With a heaving sigh, you entered into the darkness, brows furrowing and expression morphing to school your emotions. Though the tears continued to fall freely.

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