#ahsoka tano has ptsd

[aspenstarflare]

Ahsoka for like all of Rebels:

Ahsoka: Sorry! I broke down on the way here!

Hera: Oh is your speeder ok? I bet Sabine could help you fix it.

Ahsoka:

Ahsoka: What speeder?

Hera:

Ahsoka: [Starts crying again]

[thechaoticfanartist]

Phantom Pain

Gen

Warnings: None

Character(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Grim Kennet (OC)

Relationship(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi & Grim Kennet (OC), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker

Additional Tags: Post-Rako Hardeen Arc (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), Angst With A Happy Ending, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hurt Grim Kennet (OC), Obi-Wan Kenobi has PTSD, Grim Kennet has PTSD, Protective Anakin Skywalker

Summary: After returning from faking his death, Grim still acts as if Obi-Wan's dead.

Read On A03

Obi-Wan had hated going undercover in the way that he did. When he faked his death he knew he hurt everyone that was close to him. They all had to believe his death was real.

Of course, his Padawan knew otherwise. He knew he would have never been able to have fooled Grim. As the Council was making this plan they had considered that there was a high likelihood of her knowing what was happening - however he decided it was best not to tell her anyways. Nobody knew for sure what Grim did or did not know, and didn’t want to risk it on a mission like this.

She had known. Before he had faked his death she had grabbed his wrist and begged him not to go through with the mission. He had to, he had a duty to the Republic and if that meant he had to fake his death and go undercover to protect the Chancellor, then that’s what he would do.

He had managed to convince her to let him go.

His deception had hurt everyone. It was for the safety of the Republic but what had been the cost? Ahsoka was hurt. Anakin was so betrayed that he avoided talking to him but when he did there was anger in his voice - but he didn’t blame him. He knew he had hurt him. Then there was Grim, she acted as if he really was dead. She avoided him, and never spoke a word, never as much acknowledged he was there.

She completely avoided him and cut him off in any way she could.

At least Anakin and Ahsoka talked to him, even if they were upset.

He had asked Master Windu to watch over his Padawan while he was undercover. Of course he was aware that at some point she had gone off with Anakin and Ahsoka instead as he had seen Grim fight Anakin in order to defend him. He wished she hadn’t done that.

After the Chancellor was safe and he was back home, he spoke to Windu about it later. He learned that Grim had apparently snuck out of the Temple at some point and got injured during this outing. According to Grim her injuries had been from ‘failing at parkour’ but Windu shared his suspicions as her injuries had not matched the claim.

Which caused Obi-Wan to wonder what trouble Grim had gotten into while he was “dead”.

Of course he would not get any answers while Grim was avoiding him - and he knew that even if she wasn’t she still would not tell him. She was a very secretive person after all.

He always respected that and never pushed her. He reasoned that Grim had her reasons, she knew so many things about the future, that knowledge could perhaps be dangerous. Sometimes he worried about the future she knew of, and the toll that took on his Padawan. He had only the vaguest of ideas of what it could hold from what she had said. He knew it wasn’t good. If it was then she would not be here, at least she wouldn’t have chosen to. She chose to stay, because she wanted to change things.

The more the war went on, the more Obi-Wan would occasionally wonder what these things were. He knew they were involved with stopping the Sith. He knew the future was bleak. He now knew that apparently he would die in 20 years. He could only guess at the rest.

What concerned him now though, was not this future. He rarely thought about it when he could. Although he knew his Padawan often did. What concerned him now was Grim. What had happened while he was gone?

He wasn’t blind. He noticed the changes. She was more afraid and she was rarely sleeping. She seemed even more restless than usual. He would ask her - he would talk with her, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him.

She was still angry with him over what he did. He didn’t blame her. He had betrayed her, and everyone close to him. She seemed to take it harder than he expected though. Especially because she knew. It was because she knew that she was so hurt.

Because Obi-Wan should have known that she would have known the truth. But he didn’t. He had no idea what Grim knew or didn’t know. Nobody did. She never told anyone anything. He wished she would be more open with him - but he also knew that he had just lied to everyone. So he was in no place to talk.

Grim was training more often, he noticed. She did that a lot when she was stressed or worried about something. Obi-Wan wondered what it was that was bothering her. Although she wouldn’t tell him, he knew that.

He did his best not to be hurt by the way Grim was treating him. He knew that he had hurt her. It was natural for her to be upset with him.

“Grim, may we talk?” He tried one day.

She said nothing. She gave no sign that she had even heard him.

Obi-Wan sighed. “You can’t keep doing this, you know,” he told her.

Again there was no reply. She instead walked away from him completely.

“Tiny still isn’t talking to you?” Anakin asked, walking over to him.

“No, she isn’t,” Obi-Wan sighed. “She acts like I’m a ghost.”

“Well you did pretend to be dead,” he remarked, crossing his arms.

“Anakin, can we not start on this again?” He sighed. “Grim’s silent treatment is enough.”

“Is it though? You really hurt people. Snips was the one that held your ‘dead body’, you know.”

Obi-Wan winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt her in that way.”

“We thought you were dead, what way did you mean to hurt us?”

“Anakin-”

“No. You’re lucky Grim is just giving you the cold shoulder, she’s your current Padawan, and you pretended to die in front of her. You saw your Master get killed in front of you, you should know what that must have felt like for her.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to force back that memory. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said, opening his eyes. There were tears in them now. “I had never meant to-”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant, Master. Grim defended you while you were undercover. She knew you were still alive, somehow. I think she went with me to protect you, even though you hurt her in a terrible way. Despite betraying our trust she defended you, she has every right to avoid you now.”

“I never asked her to defend me.”

“No, but that’s the kind of person she is.” With that Anakin walked away.

Obi-Wan stood there. He didn’t know what to say. Anakin was right.

He decided to give Grim some space for the next few days. He reasoned that she couldn’t stay angry with him forever, and would come around at some point.

At one point he found her while she was training. He stopped for a moment before going to watch her. He was concerned with how she had been lately. Although he had given Grim space he still noticed how exhausted and sometimes even afraid she seemed to be.

She was practicing against one of the more advanced lightsaber training droids. She had been doing an impressive job, and had won each match. She was about to start on her sixth one when he noticed something. He walked over to her. “Padawan, I’d advise against it. You’re going to wear yourself out at this point.” And if she did that she could get hurt.

Once again she refused to acknowledge him. The closest he got to the fact that she had even heard him was the fact she did the direct opposite of what he had said. Instead of just starting another round she set it to the maximum difficulty allowed for a Padawan.

He sat back down with a sigh as she readied herself. If she wouldn’t listen to him, she would just have to learn for herself.

Grim was getting tired out from the back-to-back matches just as he expected. Her movements were slower this time, sweat was dripping down the back of her neck, and her chest rose and fell with her breath, but despite this she still remained focused on the droid.

She did well - at first. Her exhaustion took its toll and eventually the droid defeated her. She stared at the droid for a moment, and she seemed to tremble. Although it didn’t last longer than a moment, for she got back up and dusted herself off before deactivating the droid. Obi-Wan was left to wonder if her reaction had just been his imagination.

Grim left the room without a glance towards him. He stayed there for a little while longer. He didn’t want his Padawan to think he was following her - and really, he wasn’t. After debating for a little bit, he decided to practice against the droid himself.

The following day, when Obi-Wan woke up, Grim was gone. This did not concern him, as she woke up early in the mornings. He supposed she was likely in the Room Of A Thousand Fountains practicing her meditation. That’s where she most often was in the mornings in any case.

He went and ate his breakfast for the day. He had decided not to bother Grim again, as she clearly still wasn’t over what he had done, even if it had been a little over a week ago at this point.

When he was returning to his quarters somebody quite literally walked into him. He stopped suddenly and looked down to see Grim. His eyes went wide, as he noticed the various cuts across her body, and there even seemed to be some faint lightning scars. She covered the left side of her face with her hand as if to hide yet another injury. “Grim, what happened?” He gasped.

She tried to shrug him off as she had been doing since he returned but he blocked her path with his arms crossed. “You can’t keep acting like I’m dead, Grim. And now you’re injured, you’re bleeding even, so tell me, what happened?”

She looked up at him, as if she hadn’t seen him earlier. She kept her face covered, and awkwardly replied, “I jumped out of a window?”

She sounded unsure of herself, and Obi-Wan did not buy it for a second. “You jumped out of a window?” He repeated slowly. “Why were you jumping out of a window?”

She better have a good excuse for that.

“Umm…”

It was clear she did not think of an excuse before she ran into him.

Then - all of the sudden she began to cry. It took the Jedi Master entirely by surprise. “Grim?” He asked worriedly.

Then he noticed something else. He saw what she had been trying to hide. On the left side of her face, running from her jawline all the way up to her nose was a lightsaber scar. He recognized it instantly. What happened? He knew his Padawan - that was not from a training accident.

He hugged Grim. She tensed at the contact at first, and Obi-Wan started to release her, but then she melted in his embrace and returned it. She began to sob into his chest. He held her as she cried. “I’m so sorry, Master, I’ve been so petty, acting like you were dead, and now I’ve been such an idiot.”

“Shh,” He told her, gently soothing his Padawan. “It’s alright Grim, I forgive you. What happened?”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmered with tears, her hair was a mess, there were small cuts all over her bare skin, and the scar on her face. It was impossible to miss that scar. “I was an idiot, I should listen to you more often.”

He could tell she wouldn’t say more. He let go of her. “We should get you to the healers,” he decided.

She let go of him, and pouted. “Do I have to?” She whined.

“Yes,” he replied, gentle yet firm at the same time.

He didn’t want that lightsaber burn to go untreated.

She didn’t put up a fight, and let him lead her to the Halls Of Healing. He kept an arm wrapped around her back to support her upon noticing how weak she seemed to be. He frowned, wondering what had caused her injuries.

Once Grim was getting cared for by the Healers he left to go tell Anakin and Ahsoka. They might be angry at him for what he had done still, but all of them cared for Grim in their own ways.

“Anakin, Ahsoka,” he said, once he found them. “We need to talk, it’s about Grim.”

“Are you going to try and get us to convince her to talk to you again, Master?” Anakin asked. “Because she won’t do that yet.”

“It’s not about me and Grim, it’s just about her,” he said. “She’s hurt.”

“What?!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

“What happened?” Anakin asked, suddenly very concerned.

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been talking to me. She’s in the Halls Of Healing now, I don’t know how long she’ll be there.”

“...how hurt was she?” Ahsoka asked.

“Badly, but not too badly I don’t think,” he replied. “She said she jumped out of a window, but there’s certainly more to it.”

“What’s Tiny doing jumping out of windows?”

“She didn’t say.”

“We should be there for her when she’s okay,” Ahsoka decided.

Obi-Wan smiled at her. “I agree.”

The three of them waited outside of the Halls Of Healing for Grim to be released. All of them were worried about her, and it seemed that had left little room for Anakin to remain as angry as he had been at his former Master. Although a part of Obi-Wan knew their relationship was never going to be the same again.

When Grim exited, Ahsoka rushed towards her and hugged her. She whispered something to her that Obi-Wan couldn’t hear. Grim hugged her right back and said, “it’s alright Ash, I just had an accident is all.”

Obi-Wan frowned. That was entirely different from what she had told him.

Ahsoka pulled back from her hug and traced Grim’s new scar. She frowned slightly.

Grim laughed nervously. “What, is something wrong? Do you not like it?”

“You shouldn’t have a scar like that at our age.”

“We shouldn’t be commanders at our age, Ash.”

“No, but all we’ve done as Padawans is fight, haven’t we?”

“It certainly seems that way.”

Obi-Wan’s heart broke at their words. Both of them were right, this war had taken their childhood away. They were far too young to have gone through what they have - and Anakin too.

The two Padawans walked back over to them. Anakin put a hand on Grim’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alright, Tiny, you had us worried,” he told her.

She laughed and smiled at him. “I’m tougher than I look, Skywalker.”

“Yes, I think you’ve proved that many times,” said Obi-Wan. “I’m glad you’re okay, little one.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @andorlorian @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @keoxus @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @it-was-rose @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi @arrthurpendragon @shrinkthisviolet @thebrainofocto @forloveofcodywan @mandalorian-general

[veradragonjedi]

Gooooooood morning folks!

BBB CH 26 IS OUT!

^ there's the link :)

Hello readers! I have returned. I apologise for my absence, but moreso for the lack of an interesting tale! See, there was no writer's curse; I am not plagued, nor am I dying! But exams came before mental health, and mental health was already coming before BBB.

That being said, the next FIVE CHAPTERS are already written, meaning that they should be (fingers crossed 🤞) coming out in a more regular schedule!

And, that's not even to mention that — after these chapters — aaaaall our waiting will pay off. That's right, readers! An end is in sight (or, at least, an end to the denial.)

That's not to say that it will be smooth sailing from here, but it is to say THANK YOU for being so patient

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish @thechaoticfanartist @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @funkyphonophorae @proftree @bison-appreciation-club @justanothercatastrophe @purple-goo-writes @iamscoby (tagging you just cos it's been a huuge while omg)

(tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Tags and other shizz under the cut!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Cara Dune & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo

Characters:

Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cobb Vanth, Cara Dune, R2-D2, Ahsoka Tano, Ben Solo

Additional Tags:

Human/Vampire Relationship, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Alternate Ending, Grogu | Baby Yoda Ships Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke trains Din with the Darksaber, Vampire Luke, Post-The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 02, R2-D2 hates Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Whump, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Squick, Canon-Typical Violence, violence in general, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Friends To Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Only like half the time though, The other half is, Sad Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker has PTSD, Luke Skywalker Has ADHD, Autistic Din Djarin, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Well theyre both aspec- itll be clearer in the future i swear (Din is demi Luke is grey), Touch-Starved Luke Skywalker, WHOOOOOO, Co-parents To Lovers

Language: English

Words: 138,419 Chapters:26/?

[cross-d-a]

Fandom: Star Wars, Jedi Apprentice Series, Jedi: The Dark Side Comics, The Wrath of Darth Maul, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Star Wars: Rebels

Chapter: 4/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: Feemor & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Feemor & Qui-Gon Jinn, Feemor & Darth Maul, Feemor/Mace Windu, Feemor & Clone Troopers, Dooku & Feemor, Kilindi Matako & Maul

Characters: Feemor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Darth Maul, Dooku, Mace Windu, Xanatos, Asajj Ventress, Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Kilindi Matako, Clone Trooper 99, Yoda, Rael Averross, Komari Vosa, Ahsoka Tano, Grand Inquisitor, Bendu, Original Clone Troopers

Additional Tags:  Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst, Fluff, PTSD, Yoda’s Disaster Lineage, Found Family, Enemies to Friends to Family, Darth Maul Redemption, Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Darth Maul Being a Little Shit, Feemor Needs a Hug, BAMF Feemor, Protective Feemor, Older Brother Feemor, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Teenage Terror Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Qui-Gon, Protective Dooku, Xanatos Lives, Xanatos Being an Asshole, Xanatos Redemption, Protective Xanatos, Protective Kilindi, Clone Troopers and Jedi as Found Family, Grand Inquisitor Backstory, Force Shenanigans, Mortis Arc, Mace is having a Crisis, Grief/Mourning, Discussions of Canonical Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Feral Behavior

Summary:

Feemor Aylward dies by his Clone Commander’s hand, then wakes up 24 years in the past.

Feemor has no idea what’s going on, but he’s going to do his damned best to fix whatever the kark just happened. Too bad he was never really involved in that whole Skywalker mess. Guess it’s time to actually get acquainted with his crazy disaster lineage.

(Sidious is just confused about how all his pawns keep slipping out from beneath his thumb.)

[is-your-blorbo-neurodivergent]

submit your own characters here to be featured!

reasons under the cut - contains spoilers

reason: She was accused of murder by her friend [Barriss] and then cast out of the Jedi Order for it then after Order 66 when all her friends betrayed her and then died she had to bury them and then go undercover [end of clone wars] which then almost got her new friends killed [ahsoka book]

submitted by @nikolikesbugs

[dotthings]

Really tired of posts ripping into Ahsoka, as a character, and attacking Filoni, as a creative, because people can't grasp that Ahsoka, who survived most of the jedi order getting wiped out, after the jedi order let her down when she needed them to be the best of what they were supposed to be the most, after she lost many friends who were dear to her who fought by her side in a terrible war that was the result of political manipulations, after she found out her mentor, who was very dear to her, had gone over to the dark side, has PTSD. She's fearful, she's traumatized, by the time of the Ahsoka tv series she lost yet more friends, including one of the few remaining Jedi. We're shown the reasons she's afraid to take on Grogu as a Padawan and why it's Sabine instead. We can easily see reasons she might not rush to team up with Luke, who is the son of her mentor who went dark side. She likes Luke. She cares about Luke. It's not that she's blaming Luke at all, but it should be easy enough to see why it might take some time for her to follow someone else's jedi path, instead of trying to remake her own.

The salt over this is a little too obvious wrt how people very clearly are all about Luke and don't care about Ahsoka as a character.

And Luke's great! I love Luke. I've loved Luke since I was a kid myself. But beating up on Ahsoka and on the series creator (and creative head of LFL) because Ahsoka hasn't gone to team up with Luke (she might in the future but she hasn't yet) is completely missing the point.

The point is in fact the jedi order has been almost entirely wiped out, leaving a few highly traumatized jedi out there and it's not going to be simple, neat, and easy to rebuild the order. Nobody is erasing that. That's...a very major point in the story and impacts Ahsoka and other characters significantly.

There's nothing anti-Jedi going on here. It's that people are failing to actually pay attention to Ahsoka Tano as a character and the context of her history and what she's been through.

[blood-blindfolds-and-butterflies]

BBB: Chapter 25, Odyssey

It's UP ⬆️

I am SORRY for the WAIT ladies and gentlemen and readers in between. It's been ROUGH (both academically and emotionally) lately. Exams amirite...

If any of you are still here, welcome back!

Taglist:

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish @thechaoticfanartist @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @funkyphonophorae @proftree <- I CAN FINALLY TAG YOU NOW !!! @the-trail-to-oregon @justanothercatastrophe @purple-goo-writes @babygirlbridger

(tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Tags and other shizz under the cut!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Cara Dune & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo

Characters:

Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cobb Vanth, Cara Dune, R2-D2, Ahsoka Tano, Ben Solo

Additional Tags:

Human/Vampire Relationship, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Alternate Ending, Grogu | Baby Yoda Ships Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke trains Din with the Darksaber, Vampire Luke, Post-The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 02, R2-D2 hates Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Whump, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Squick, Canon-Typical Violence, violence in general, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Friends To Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Only like half the time though, The other half is, Sad Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker has PTSD, Luke Skywalker Has ADHD, Autistic Din Djarin, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Well theyre both aspec- itll be clearer in the future i swear (Din is demi Luke is grey), Touch-Starved Luke Skywalker, WHOOOOOO, Co-parents To Lovers

Language: English

Words: 128,006 -> Chapters: 25/?

[weyrwolfen]

Eidola: Chapter 21 - CT-8821 Reaver

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Clone Trooper OCs, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and other canon members of the 501st/332nd and the Bad Batch

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, and substance abuse; PTSD; it’s post-Order 66 and nobody is having a good time (but they’re all working on it)

Summary: The mission was never to bring down the Empire. Not really. The mission was to save every single one of their chipped brothers. But if doing do helped break the Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy? Well, that was just a bonus.

“I will admit, the upcoming, earlier-than-expected visit from the Imperial tax assessor has put us in a bit of a bind,” Governor Shalk said, reaching for one of the datapads on her surprisingly utilitarian desk. “Of course, we here on Wadj are proud to support the Empire, but we have so few goods we can export to Core worlds to generate additional income, and fewer highly-connected allies to help us find markets for those goods we do have to offer.”

Major Ullmann reached across the desk and accepted the datapad, turning it around to scan through the proffered file.

Reaver was standing at attention, just to the left of the door of the governor’s office. The Coruscant Guardsman, Ori, was opposite him, posture propaganda-holo perfect on the door’s right side.

They weren’t exactly a matched set though. Ori had handed Reaver an orange command pauldron, when they’d all been suiting up for this escort mission. Reaver wasn’t sure what to make of that: if their recently arrived brothers were honestly trying to loop him in on their non-standard command structure or if it was just a sop to his ego. He might still be the top-ranking clone in the 241st, but he clearly wasn’t the one calling the shots around the base anymore.

Neither was Major Ullmann, but that had been true since they’d arrived on Wadj, right after the war had ended. That was a separate issue to mull over in the middle of the night, when Reaver’s insomnia got the better of him.

“Might I take this ‘pad to review these files in detail?” the Major asked, all diplomatic etiquette and careful obfuscation, promising nothing.

Governor Shalk waved one hand with casual grace. A single ring caught the light at that gesture, one small stone set in a plain band, resting on the finger several natborn cultures reserved for signs of marital status. Reaver had been in this room dozens of times before, guarding meetings just like this one, but he hadn’t really noticed any of the fine details of the place or the people involved. It was vaguely horrifying, just how bad he’d been at everything, under the chip’s control.

“Of course, in the event this little endeavor bears fruit, I would be happy to negotiate some form of remuneration for your efforts,” the Governor was saying with a small smile.

A bribe. She was offering the Major an under-the-table cut of the profits.

Reaver’s memory might be spotty and incomplete, but after reviewing what recollections he did retain before this mission, it was obvious that the Governor had been making every effort to ingratiate herself with Major Ullmann, from the moment they’d all been stationed on Wadj.

The funny thing was, Reaver didn’t think less of her for it. It was obvious that she was doing everything in her very limited power to protect her planet’s citizens. If that meant sucking up to the Empire’s military commanders on-planet, or greasing a palm or two to keep everyone happy, then so be it. Her actions on other fronts were far more telling.

The local economy ran as much on barter as it did credits, but what little revenue did come in from the taxes on off-planet trade was cycled back into public works and social safety nets, not into lining Governor Shalk’s pockets. Not unless she was hiding her tracks better than any of them realized.

Given the aggressive plainness of the governor’s office and attire, Reaver kind of doubted it.

Wadj wasn’t exactly a prime posting for any ambitious Imperial officer. It was too small, too out-of-the-way, and too strategically unimportant to rate much scrutiny from the Empire. As long as the planet paid its taxes and kept its head down, the chances the local politicians would be replaced with Imperial cronies were low. And the higher-ups on Wadj had been scrupulously toeing the line to keep things that way. On flimsi, the planet was populated by loyal, if poor, Imperial citizens.

The planet also appeared to be the perfect place to send a trio of disgraced Imperial Army officers to languish in obscurity, under the guard of their chipped clone troopers. Finding those reports on his personal terminal had been sobering. Reaver had immediately sent them all to the Major, who had read them over with something resembling dark amusement before forwarding them to a few key brothers among their rescuers.

At least CT-8821’s chip-addled incompetence had extended to the reports he’d filed behind his own officers’ backs. They hadn’t contained anything too incriminating. Lists of comm contacts, details of the Major’s bank records, his daily schedule. Invasive? Yes. Horribly so. But not incriminating.

Ori was confident he could mimic Reaver’s, CT-8821’s, wording well enough to take over sending safely innocuous, false reports, occasionally seeded with useful misinformation. The Corrie had offered to run all of the falsified documents past Reaver and the Major both. Reaver wasn’t having any better luck interpreting that offer than he was the orange pauldron on his shoulder.

The Governor leaned back in her chair and adjusted the drape of her robe, seemingly appeased. The garment was made of a well-crafted, but unpretentious, blue fabric with only a little embroidery around the seams to add visual interest. Not austere, but also not extravagant, at least by Outer Rim reckoning.

“Now,” she said, clearly changing the subject. “Is there anything I should be aware of, regarding security operations in system?”

From his current position, guarding the door, Reaver couldn’t see the Major’s face, but he had worked with the man long enough to easily read his body language. If they’d been playing sabacc, Reaver would be on his guard, given the way Major Ullmann had just shifted in his seat, shoulders angled casually out of perfectly square.

“There has been a minor uptick in pirate activity in a few of the neighboring systems,” the Major said, sounding professional, if largely unconcerned. That statement, at least, was true. “You may notice some heightened activity, around our base. We have been instructed to take certain steps, to increase our operational readiness in the event we need to repel similar raids in system.” And there was the lie, Reaver knew that they’d received no such orders. The Empire, like the Republic before it, cared very little for the safety and security of Outer Rim planets. “We have been increasing patrols, both on the ground and in orbit, but I assure you, these actions are precautionary only.”

That was a neat and tidy way to explain away anything odd the locals had almost certainly noticed around their base, not the mention the increase in fuel the base was requisitioning from the capital’s small spaceport.

Reaver’s lips twitched upwards into a lopsided smile, which he only allowed because it was well-hidden under his bucket.

The Guardsman, Ori, might as well have been carved from stone, visor facing perfectly ahead, seemingly focused on a blank patch of wall some indefinable distance above the Governor’s head. He might have been rolling his eyes behind his visor, but honestly, Reaver doubted it. Ori had struck Reaver as a consummate professional, even though this meeting had to be painfully quaint to a brother who’d spent most of his deployment on Coruscant serving the Senate.

Major Ullmann and Governor Shalk continued to chat for another twenty minutes, discussing minutiae that Reaver would remember this time, even though he didn’t find much of it interesting. Regulation of fishing quotas, hiring additional locals to fill empty staff positions in the Imperial registrar and judicial offices, unusual storm activity off the main continent’s southern coast.

When they left, picking up Jade and Facet along the way, they were stopped at the door by one of the Governor’s aides, who presented the Major with a wooden box of ‘export samples.’ Another bribe, no doubt. Major Ullmann clearly found the whole thing highly distasteful, but he hid it well with a polite thank you and a vague gesture to the four clones flanking him.

Jade accepted the small crate, and Reaver saw Ori discretely palm out a hand scanner and give the box a quick once over. Reaver trusted that the Corrie would do or say something if he found anything too alarming.

Apparently he didn’t.

With some final nods and empty platitudes, they were finally able to join Sergeant Levee and another one of their new brothers, Hitch, who’d been guarding the armored transport they’d taken from the base.

The drive back was largely uneventful, except for the part where Ori insisted they open the crate so he could make absolutely sure of what they were bringing back before they reached the base. That seemed paranoid, but Reaver couldn’t exactly fault the man’s reasoning. The good news was that the contents seemed to be innocent enough: some kind of alcohol in three rather fancy-looking bottles, a shockingly soft bolt of green fabric with an iridescent sheen to the weave, a solid cylinder of some kind of faintly luminescent mineral, two vibrantly painted ceramic bowls, a few jars of scented creams or cosmetics, and a selection of fancily packaged herbs and spices whose names Reaper didn’t recognize.

No explosives, no surveillance equipment, nothing biologically reactive unless you counted the alcohol.

Ori sealed the box back up, apparently satisfied with his findings.

Major Ullmann sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him in the back of the transport. “I wish I had even a quarter of the connections the Governor apparently thinks I do,” he said dourly. “She’s not wrong to be concerned though. The slated increase in Imperial taxes is going to be crippling to what few import and export businesses they have.”

The clones were all silent for several minutes. Planetary economic theory hadn’t exactly been covered in the standard trooper training regimen back on Kamino.

Eventually though, Ori did say, “I will speak to the Commander,” and left it at that. It was as vaguely non-committal as anything the Major had said back at the Governor’s office. Reaver had no plans to hold his breath waiting for anything to come of it.

Clip was waiting for all of them in the base’s courtyard when they all filed out of the transport. Much to Reaver’s surprise, he wasn’t there for Ori or the Major.

“You’re needed for a comm call upstairs,” Clip explained. The ARC’s uncharacteristically terse tone made Reaver tense up, immediately assuming that he’d be receiving some kind of bad news. Clip clearly noticed that reaction and grimaced a little before adding, “It’s nothing bad, but we thought it best to let you and Brace decide what should be shared with the rest of the base.”

Brace. Brace was the 241st’s CMO. That really didn’t set Reaver’s mind at ease.

They didn’t head to the main holotable in the base’s command center, but instead diverted off to one of the conference rooms meant for more sensitive conversations. And sure enough, there was Brace, standing on the other side of the compact comms system, looking as worn and worried as Reaver felt. He had a stack of datapads sitting on the table in front of him, which he’d obviously been reading through when they’d arrived.

Clip punched a quick code into the wall panel and said, “I’ll be in the command center if you need me.”

The device hummed and flickered to life when the door closed behind Clip, light resolving into quarter-sized images of two clones. The one on the right was a brother Reaver didn’t recognize, but the medical symbol painted on one of his spaulders spoke for itself.`

The other was Captain Rex.

Despite their nominally equivalent ranks, Reaver knew perfectly well where he fell relative to Rex in the new command structure around base. Reaver found himself stiffening unconsciously, shoulders squaring under the other Captain’s scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye, Reaver saw Brace do much the same thing.

“Sir?” Reaver asked, with a deference he knew was deserved even if it was poorly defined.

Captain Rex was silent for a moment, and Reaver wasn’t sure if it was because of a delay in the signal or something else. “We’re working on getting someone embedded in the capital’s hospital, a Core-trained surgeon,” he finally said. “Be working on a list of your people you think could benefit from access to their facilities.”

The news was a kriff-ton better than whatever Reaver had been half-expecting. “We can do that,” he said, still waiting for the other boot to drop.

“We also have some medical files to transfer to you,” Captain Rex added, glancing over to his own medic, who leaned forward to enter something into the holotable on their end of the connection.

Brace picked up one of his datapads and plugged it into the ‘table. The file transfer only took a few moments, but whatever came up on the screen earned a sharp intake of breath.

“Nails finally agreed to let us read you in on his situation,” the other medic said without any further preamble. “He’ll be on the next ship we send your way.”

Reaver couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted, but every time he started to drift off, some new thought would bubble up to the surface and jerk him back to wakefulness. The medics informed him that this was a fairly normal, even mild, reaction to coming out from under the long-term effects of his mind-control chip. Given how most of Reaver’s men were, or were not, recovering from their own surgeries, he kind of understood their point.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t the chip. It wasn’t like he was short on other, more immediate sources of stress.

Nails, for example.

Force. Captain Rex himself had told Reaver about Nails, almost the moment Reaver had left the infirmary after his own surgery. That news had seemed too good to be true, and Reaver’s small kernel of doubt had only grown after the days turned into weeks and their long-lost brother still hadn’t commed any of them.

But now that Reaver had read the medics’ reports, he had a better idea why Nails might have been hesitant to reach out to them.

Reaver himself had signed the flimsiwork, sending Nails off on a temporary assignment to the Republic medical station in the Hosnian system. He’d been helping to repair the base’s malfunctioning carbon dioxide scrubbers when Order 66 had gone out. Apparently there had been fifteen Jedi on base: nine knights and six padawans, all injured and receiving medical care.

The clones, Nails among them, had killed them all in their cots.

It wasn’t the last slaughter Nails had been ordered to perform, before being rescued out from under the noses of his Imperial commanders on one of Millik’s moons.

Force. The details had been hard to read. Reaver couldn’t even imagine.

Reaver had lost two years of his already foreshortened life to a slave chip the Kaminoans had planted in his brain before he was even decanted. He was angry, and bitter, and (although he hadn’t actually admitted it out loud) deeply afraid that removing the chip somehow hadn’t been enough, that one day another random comm call would snatch his mind away again, this time forever.

But in comparison to what their new brothers had experienced, in comparison to what Nails had experienced, Reaver was also very lucky.

Almost his entire company was here with him on Wadj. His men were wounded in mind and spirit, but they were recovering. The situation was far from ideal, but it could have been so much worse.

Reaver had met maybe a dozen new brothers who wore the infamous blue of the 501st, but the rest of their group sported all sorts of other colors, rarely in groups bigger than two or three. He hadn’t seen a single other brother wearing Clip’s shade of medium-green, or Shark’s brownish-red, or Aughts’s pale lavender. He didn’t know if their battalions were gone – just completely wiped out, or if their closest brothers were still out there somewhere under the control of the Empire.

Their new brothers had been opening up more and more every rotation, sharing stories from their pasts. Hearing more about them, what they had gone through during the war and especially after it, made his own experiences seem small and petty by comparison.

Reaver was so angry, and so afraid, and so lucky, and he’d really just like to work through his own osik, without also feeling guilty for not being happier or more grateful for his comparatively good situation.

He couldn’t blame his reaction on their new brothers. They weren’t doing or saying anything to stoke that guilt. If anything, they were being so unfailingly supportive about the whole situation that it was just making Reaver feel even worse. Aughts had flat out asked him if he’d prefer to schedule his check-ins with one of his own medics. That had seemed cowardly, not to mention rude towards the brothers who had saved them, so Reaver had turned the offer down.

Maybe he shouldn’t have.

He really needed to get his bucket on straight, and fast. He couldn’t let his own issues spill over onto Nails. He wouldn’t.

Sleep was a long time coming.

“Malk, we’ve got the Scythe incoming,” Latch said over the command deck’s open comms. “You’re gonna want to clear your cadets out of the way.”

They weren’t really cadets, but nobody seemed to have a better name for the pair of stringy, half-grown Nautolans one of their new brothers had somehow adopted. They’d been on base for a little over a week at this point, running endless laps around the courtyard, or eating in the mess, or practicing with blasters under the watchful eyes of multiple different clones. They seemed like good kids, not that Reaver had a lot of experience with less-than-fully-grown natborns.

Captain Rex had asked Reaver if transferring them here was going to be a problem, and Reaver had said no. He genuinely hadn’t thought there would be any issues.

He also hadn’t been sure if he could actually voice a complaint if he did have one. If it would be heard or heeded.

He wasn’t sure if the question itself hadn’t been some kind of test.

He was pretty certain he was being unfair.

Reaver just wished somebody would just lay out the details of this… whatever the kriff this was. Rescue mission or rebellion or what.

Maybe their new brothers couldn’t.

Maybe they didn’t know themselves.

Reaver had always known where he stood back on Kamino, with the G.A.R. Kriff, even with the Empire, under the control of the karking chip. The knowing made things easier, let him predict how he should act, when he should speak, and when it was better to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t know where that line was anymore.

Major Ullmann had always encouraged his officers to speak their minds, but now he was deferring to the newcomers in all the ways that mattered. He’d instructed his men to do the same. There had been a lot of pretty words to say about self-determination and the founding principles of the Republic, but none of the brothers present had missed the guilt and anger and grief and heartache behind his words.

Reaver got it. He did. The Major felt responsible for what had happened, for not figuring out the reality of the chips or how to give his men their own minds back earlier, no matter how irrational or illogical that line of guilty reasoning was.

Reaver felt the same way.

He just wished his CO would give him a little additional guidance here.

The 241st still answered to Reaver, and Reaver now answered to… somebody. Maybe Captain Rex. Rumor had it he’d been promoted to Commander near the end of the war, but those same rumors also said he’d been stripped of his rank and accused of treason after Order 66. Reaver wasn’t interested in reopening any of those wounds with tactless requests for details. And besides, Rex hadn’t exactly been around much, to oversee the day-to-day workings of the Wadj base.

The same could be said about Ahsoka Tano, who as a Jedi padawan also had held the rank of Commander, but who had also made herself scarce shortly after Reaver had been released by the medics. From what little gossip he’d been able to gather around base, her actual rank was even more convoluted than Rex’s, even though both of them were clearly the leaders of this operation.

Perhaps Reaver was supposed to be answering to one of the seemingly random sampling of Coruscant Guards, ARCs, or indeterminately elevated troopers who seemed to round out the rest of the upper echelon of the group’s command structure. Who even knew?

Force, the entire outfit was a karking organizational mess, except he couldn’t exactly say anything against their operational effectiveness. Not when they’d taken his own base out from under him and then seen to the health and freedom of his brothers. Chips or no, the entire incident was deeply humbling in retrospect.

Reaver sure as kriff couldn’t run any of these thoughts past his own men, who needed him to be a source of stability while they all sorted themselves out.

And he still didn’t know where he was supposed to fit into this whole mess.

“The Scythe is on her final approach,” Bar reported, sending out the data on the projected flight trajectory to the other terminals. “Requesting permission to land.”

Reaver had a wild, irrational impulse to deny that request, just to see what would happen.

“Latch, please confirm that the yard is clear,” he said instead, perfectly professional.

“Yard’s clear,” Latch said after only a moment’s pause.

“Then permission granted,” Reaver said, rattling off the prescribed words like he was reading from a script.

The shuttle was easy to pick out, a dark silhouette against the last colors of Wadj’s fading sunset. They’d been routing most shuttles in and out after full dark to hide them from the locals, but sundown was just going to have to be good enough cover this time because–

“Did a piece just fall off of them?” Bar asked, alarmed.

Because of that. Yeah.

“Looks like yes,” Reaver answered without glancing over his shoulder at the men. He didn’t need to. He could feel the incredulous looks they were trading behind his back.

He didn’t blame them. He sure as kriff wouldn’t have been comfortable taking that thing out of atmosphere, much less into hyperspace.

Despite the obvious beating the ship had taken, the Scythe rotated smoothly and sank carefully into the courtyard. The base’s floodlights were doing their karking best to highlight every spot weld and temporary patch that were currently holding the craft together.

Reaver stepped closer to the command deck’s main windows, so he could see into the courtyard below. Ori was down there, waiting to greet his brothers as they exited the ship. Eventually the 501st ARC and their senior medic, Jesse and Kix, appeared, escorting an unfamiliar sentient down the ship’s damaged ramp. The being’s slender build looked particularly out-of-place surrounded by so many clones.

Right.

The surgeon.

“Slicing isn’t the issue,” the trooper said, scowling down at the datapad in his hands. Reaver had seen him around base, but he’d never managed to catch this brother’s name. Whatever his name was, he didn’t seem terribly comfortable being the temporary center of attention. “We have the access codes. In Hutt space, that’s all you need to open accounts and move around credits. But…” he trailed off.

“But the Hutts police their own banking system, and they don’t look favorably on unsanctioned thefts,” Ori said, picking up the thread of conversation without glancing up from his own ‘pad. “Draining these accounts will be a blow to their reputation.”

Jesse nodded, clearly unsurprised by their analysis, but also unhappy about it. “With the Imperial oversight of their own banks, somebody’s going to notice a huge number of credits suddenly appearing in some random account on an Outer Rim skug hole.”

“The Mandalorian banks are still independent,” Ori said, frowning to himself, and then amended, “Barely.”

Wait. Wait… “Wadj has an independent banking system,” Reaver said, looking around the holotable. He’d thought Ori, at least, had already known that, but maybe not, given the hard looks he was getting. “Lots of these small, Outer Rim systems do. It’s small, and I don’t know all the details, but I was never asked to report back on the Major’s Imperial accounts, only the Wadj ones.”

Reaver could practically see the gears spinning in all three brothers’ heads.

“Factor, can you look into this?”

Right. The trooper’s name was Factor. Reaver filed that piece of information away, grateful that he wasn’t going to have to break down and show his shebs by asking.

“Already on it,” the trooper said to himself, eyes flicking back and forth across whatever he was reading on his personal screen. After a protracted silence and a lot of rapid fire typing, he said, “Oh, that’s interesting,” under his breath. He seemed momentarily oblivious to the fact that everyone else was watching him, waiting for some kind of elaboration.

Finally, Jesse sighed and then asked, “What’s interesting?”

Factor looked up, refocused his attention with a small shake of his head, and reported in a stringently professional tone, “The local system functions more as a membership-based, credit sharing entity instead of a true bank. It looks like it only really handles in-system transactions and has agreements in place with the Imperial banks for anything off-planet.” He handed his own datapad over to Ori, who took it with obvious interest.

The Coruscant guard’s expression sharpened like a hunting strill catching a scent. “They don’t require chain codes for membership,” he said, half to himself. He shared a weighted look with Jesse. “And the transfers can be done in the system’s name, not the individual member’s.”

Jesse made a quiet sound, half exhale, half low whistle. “How the kriff did they get away with negotiating that?” he said.

Ori shrugged. “By being too small and too unimportant to be worth targeting,” he said, but there was something distinctly predatory under the casual statement.

Reaver hadn’t been following the conversation half as well as he would have liked – credit-sharing didn’t sound any different from what regular banks did to him – so it was almost a relief when a comm request popped up into his HUD. It was from Brace. He turned to the side, flashing an explanatory hand signal to the others, and accepted the call.

“Reaver here,” he said, hoping this wasn’t some kind of emergency.

“The surgeon’s here,” Brace said flatly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Kriff, already? Reaver checked the chrono in his HUD and realized that this meeting had run exceedingly late. He’d completely lost track of time. He’d meant to get down to the infirmary before the natborn surgeon arrived. “I’ll be right down,” he said.

“Good,” Brace said and then cut the connection.

Well, that didn’t sound promising.

Reaver re-engaged his external mic just in time to hear Jesse say, “… If any of the natborns might be willing to test the waters by opening a personal account.”

Ori actually snorted. “Better than stashing their credits under their bunks, which is what I’m pretty certain everyone in the safehouse has been doing so far.”

“I’m needed in medical,” Reaver inserted into the brief lull in conversation. Maybe he should have phrased that as a question, but kark that. His brothers needed him, and whatever else this karked up situation ended up demanding of him, they would always come first.

But Jesse just nodded and asked, “Can you ask Echo and Tech to come up when they get done?”

Reaver just nodded and left the command deck to the others.

The walk across base was largely uneventful. It was a little disconcerting, how day to day life just kept humming along, chip or no chip.

Except, of course, there were differences. There was more chatter in the halls, more anger and more laughter and more sniping and just more personality underlying every conversation. Most everyone was wearing their old Phase II armor again, freshly pulled out of storage and touched up with the paint their new brothers had sourced.

And of course, tan wasn’t the only color paint he saw on his walk.

Reaver had known exactly who to expect in the infirmary, but the space still felt unexpectedly crowded. That could probably be chalked up to Clone Force 99’s presence, in its entirety.

The surgeon, a slender, multi-armed sentient in surprisingly colorful attire, was tracking a small light back and forth in front of Wrecker’s clouded eye and asking questions in a tone too quiet to make out. Kix was discussing something with Echo and Tech, the kid, Omega, was obviously trying to provide moral support to the others, and Hunter was hovering over them all like a broody Krayt dragon, puffed up and just as prone to bite. The situation seemed well in hand, so Reaver felt precisely no qualms about going to his own men.

Brace was bristling in front of Truss and Curl, pretending to review something on a datapad while actually watching the proceedings unfolding in the infirmary’s neighboring cots. It didn’t escape Reaver that he’d placed himself between his brothers and the unknown natborn in the room.

As for Curl and Truss, their reactions were about what Reaver had expected. Curl just looked bored, but Truss was fidgeting, playing with the makeshift prosthetic the medics had knocked together out of scavenged neural tech and a partial droid hand. The two metal digits curled along with his organic ones, but they moved more slowly in awkward fits and starts.

“Interface still glitching?” Reaver asked him, keeping his voice low.

Truss shrugged and looked up to meet Reaver’s eye, expression stubbornly blank. “Not really,” he lied.

“I had trouble figuring out distances back when it happened,” Wrecker was saying, his booming voice filling the space. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at managing.”

That also sounded like a lie to Reaver’s ears, but maybe it was a day for it.

Reaver was about to ask Curl how he was doing as well, when his scout suddenly hissed a soft, “Force,” under his breath.

Reaver turned to see what the issue was.

Echo had removed his armor and was starting to strip off his upper blacks as well.

Karking hells.

They all knew about the prosthetics, of course. They were kind of hard to miss, even when the 99 ARC was fully armored up, but Reaver hadn’t had any idea exactly how extensive the modifications were. Exactly how far up did–

A solid thwack against his armored shoulder jerked Reaver’s attention back to Brace, who had just hit him with his datapad.

“Stop staring,” the medic hissed, expression full of warning. He turned and leveled the same glower at Curl, whose shoulders hunched up in defensive guilt, and then Truss, who was the only innocent party here.

Truss just responded with a flat, unimpressed look of his own.

“Right,” Reaver said, pulling himself back on track and trying to drag his brothers along with him. “So, what’s the plan here?”

“Plans,” Brace said, not toning back his side eye a bit. “Plural. Tide, Kix, and I have worked out a number of different options, depending on what’s actually available.” He pointed at Curl, who’d taken a lungfull of corrosive gas back on Siesiss and experienced severely decreased lung capacity ever since, and said, “Regenerative therapy, partial mod replacement, or transplants, tank-grown or otherwise.” Then he shifted to Truss, and said, “Integrated ports or enhanced neural interfacing with an updated skeletal framing covered in either armored plating or synthetic skin.”

“All of which sounds pretty kriffing expensive,” Curl grumbled under his breath.

At least that concern was something Reaver could lay to rest. “That shouldn’t be a problem for long,” he said with a tiny, lopsided smirk which slanted at least a little mean. “I can’t share all of the details, but our brothers are working on a plan to relieve some slavers of their blood credits.”

Curl and Truss just stared in surprise, but it was Brace whose entire demeanor shifted. If he’d been wearing his plate, Reaver might not have noticed the slight shudder that worked its way down the medic’s spine, but Brace was in his light grays today. His expression flickered back and forth between hope and doubt.

Reaver could relate. The clones had always worked under the framework of tightening budgets and stringent rationing. The concept that they could just get whatever they needed without skimping elsewhere seemed too big to contemplate. Too big to be real.

Apparently the 241st weren’t the only ones to feel that way either.

Later that evening, well after the surgeon had returned to the natborn safehouse and Reaver had gone back to the regular day to day running of the base, Jesse had shown up to drag Reaver and a few of his officers to an ‘unofficial, official command meeting’ in the section of the base designed for natborn officers’ R and R time.

To Reaver, it looked a lot more like ‘after-hours drinking,’ but he wasn’t about to complain about that. Not when the Major had stopped by to add one of the governor’s fancy bottles of iridescent liquor to the more questionable options their brothers had ‘liberated’ from the Abainya pirates.

Who even knew how many glasses into the evening, Jesse had leaned back in the cushioned couch they’d claimed against one of the room’s walls and said, “It’s good to see him like this.”

It took Reaver a second to figure out who Jesse meant, but he did eventually realize that the ARC was watching their own CMO, Kix, who was snickering over something with two 501st brothers and Brace, who’d also been dragged into this impromptu celebration.

“What,” Reaver said, feeling and sounding a little fuzzy. “Drunk?”

Jesse snorted, because there wasn’t any denying that Kix was at least a little tipsy, but he still corrected, “Having fun. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since… Well, you know.”

Reaver did know, but this was getting a lot more personal than he was ready to handle, even if it turned out that Jesse and the other ambiguous ‘officers’ were surprisingly easy to talk to, at least after a few cups of liquid courage.

“This is the first alcohol I’ve had, since then,” his inebriated brain decided to blurt. The admission was somewhere between a confession, an explanation for why his tolerance was so pitifully low, and a poorly-thought-out attempt at commiseration. “Imperial regulations.”

Jesse just nodded and lifted up his own glass in a casual, almost mocking toast.

“To breaking Imperial regulations,” he said.

Reaver clinked his own glass against Jesse’s and echoed, “To breaking Imperial regulations.”

The weird, sparkly liquor really was good. Certainly better than that piss-tasting swill Ori was drinking.

“Oh, speaking of recreational reg-breaking,” Jesse said, leaning forward to set his glass on the low table in front of them. “How long do we all have to keep pretending we don’t know that one of your troopers has shacked up with Agent Weeks?”

Reaver just about choked on his drink, trying not to laugh mid-swallow. He’d been covering for Callan since before the war had ended. They all had. And now that every free breath he and his brothers took already amounted to high treason, Reaver was finding it even harder to get worked up over a little enthusiastically consensual fraternization on base, especially now that the remaining complications related to their company’s chain of command were actively being jettisoned out of an airlock.

The charade was getting more than a little silly, but there was something humorous and almost comforting in the familiar, unnecessary pretense, so after a moment’s thought, Reaver answered, “Probably right up until we get invitations to the marriage ceremony.”

Don’t lock your knees.

That was one of the earliest lessons Reaver remembered from back on Kamino. Before combat training, before blaster drills or armor maintenance, before learning to read or even to march, clone cadets were taught to stand at attention. Keep your back straight, chin up, eyes forward, and never, ever lock your knees. The instructors never explained why, they just gave the order and expected it to be obeyed. Of course, a few brothers didn’t listen, or weren’t sure what the instructors meant, or maybe they just forgot the detail, and ended up face-planting on the training room floor, out cold.

And when they’d come back to, then they’d been punished for not following their orders in every detail.

So, Reaver had learned pretty quickly not to lock his knees.

He locked his knees now though. He had to.

Nails was on that descending shuttle.

“I’m going to kill them,” Reaver muttered under his breath, trying to distract himself from his own irrational apprehension. At his side, Clip just laughed quietly. Pulling a half-joking grimace in response was easy. Reaver was still working things out in his head, but he thought he’d reached something resembling equilibrium over their ambiguous ranks. Getting absolutely plastered with your brothers was useful like that, even if his head was still throbbing.

“It’s too late to dismiss them now,” Ori said blandly, standing on Clip’s other side. “You’ll start a riot.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Reaver had told Truss, Bolt, and Callan about who was arriving today, because to do anything else would have been cruel. He’d told Agent Weeks because he wasn’t an idiot and he knew that Callan would tell her even if Reaver didn’t. He’d also told all four of them that while he didn’t expect them to keep the news to themselves, they needed to keep the welcome party as small as possible so they wouldn’t overwhelm Nails.

It looked like the entire base had shown up instead, formed up in precise lines and decked out in their old, painted armor, buckets tucked neatly under their arms. Their non-241st brothers must be covering all of the base’s essential duty postings, to help make this happen.

At least most of the extra ships had relocated to the rapidly expanding archipelago base. It meant that at a bare minimum, they at least had the room for this kind of nonsense.

The shuttle was descending towards the last open space left in the base’s courtyard, thankfully far enough away from the front line of their formation to not shower them all in dust. Once the ship had landed and cut its engines, Reaver gestured for Truss and the other brothers assigned to the armory to fall in with him. Agent Weeks did not, as Reaver had half expected, join them. She just stood at the front of the formation in her formal blacks, shoulder to shoulder with Major Ullmann and Sergeant Levee in a silent show of support.

Reaver stopped next to the shuttle’s still-sealed ramp and waited as his brothers from the armory lined up next to him.

But then the shuttle’s ramp was dropping down and there, flanked by Captain Rex himself, was Nails.

Force.

It really was him, Nails, impossibly returned to them, but frozen at the top of the ship’s ramp, body language all but screaming that he was uncertain of his welcome.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Welcome home,” Reaver said, voice cracking only a little.

And then Bolt staggered forward up the ramp and caught Nails in a bone-crushing hug. Callan and Truss were only a step behind him. It was a wonder the four of them didn’t topple over, back into the ship.

A miracle, which probably had something to do with Captain Rex planting a supportive hand in the middle of Nails’ back.

As for Nails, he just buried his face against Callan’s spaulder and gripped all three of his brothers with desperate strength.

“I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about,” Reaver overheard Captain Rex say to Nails in an undertone.

It took Nails a bit, but once he got himself a little more under control, Reaver managed to gently entice the lot of them back down the ramp and towards the rest of the 241st, who look ready to storm the shuttle by force if they were asked to wait even one more minute.

He fully intended to join his men in the celebratory feast he wasn’t supposed to know Kenner had been cooking up in the mess. But there was one thing he needed to handle first.

When Captain Rex finally took the last few steps down off of the ramp and into the dust of the courtyard, Reaver gave him the most proper salute he could manage, shoulders back, posture perfect, and said, “Captain Rex. Thank you, sir.” He meant it too, the respect and the gratitude for Nails. For everything. He’d been raised to be loyal, and giving that loyalty to a brother was the easiest thing in the galaxy. Especially a brother whose men and mission continuously demonstrated their mettle. This brother.

Captain Rex just looked at him for a long moment, and then, instead of returning the salute, he extended one of his hands.

Kark it all, Reaver had really thought he’d gotten this relative rank thing worked out.

But Reaver did reach out, maybe a little awkwardly at first, and grip Rex’s forearm in greeting.

“Can we not, Captain?” Rex said with a small smile, putting a little extra emphasis on their shared rank.

Except it wasn’t shared, was it? Not really.

But Reaver really was feeling a little more confident in his footing. Enough to relapse into the familiar territory of being a subtle pain in the shebs when his superior officers were being particularly dense. “Anything you need, Commander.”

Stalemate.

The grumpy, resigned expression on Captain Rex’s face was legitimately hilarious, not that Reaver was going to let that reaction show on his face and lose the upper hand here.

Finally, Rex just sighed and buckled under the inevitable. “Can I at least get some food before having to deal with whatever crises cropped up dirtside?”

“Of course, Captain.”

AN: Previous chapters are available here.

Dividers by @freesia-writes using helmets by @lornaka. More designs available here.

[kalevalakryze]

Convalescence

Chapter 1

Pairings: Shin Hati/Sabine Wren, Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer, Hera Syndulla/Ahsoka Tano Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Hera Syndulla, Ahsoka Tano, Ursa Wren Tags: Domestic Fluff, Rebuilding, Family Bonding, Forging, Beskar'gam, Mandalorians, Sabine Wren Needs A Hug, PTSD Mention, Lesbian Sabine Wren, Sabine Wren Has Issues, Bo-Katan Kryze Has Issues, The Armorer Is A Rock Word Count: 4,586 AO3 Link: fic & collection

Seeing Mandalore surrounded by trade ships and life again was like a breath of fresh air for Sabine and Ahsoka. Shin was sprawled out in one of the T-6’s newly installed chairs, snoring softly into the quiet of the cockpit, Sabine sat in the chair next to her, sitting on the edge of her seat as she tried to lean closer to the viewport. Hera stood beside Sabine’s chair, holding onto her seat back as they reached the still thunderous atmosphere of the planet. Ahsoka, at the controls, had a fond smile on her lips, even as the ship started to rock. 

“Welcome home,” Hera called the moment they breached the storm to the bustling cities below. The surface was still covered in thick crystal in many parts, but domed cities stood tall, rebuilt stronger to survive the storms that rolled over the surface once a day. Several settlements were popped up outside of the domes, however, mining settlements that had set up shop at breaking away the crystals to be used in other construction and exports. 

They could see the shipyards of mandomotors, finished ships coming off the assembly lines and being moved to the yard for their first flights as prospective buyers flocked to the market. Mandalorians on jetpacks flew in formation between villages with crates suspended between them, with tourists on landspeeders dipping between villages and the domed cities. 

The T-6 landed on an open pad, waved in by helmeted Mandalorians directing incoming traffic to Sundari. The ramp lowered with a hiss of the Hydraulics while Sabine tried to wake her wolf up. “Shin, c’mon, we’re home.” She jostled the blonde, springing back just in time to avoid the flickering activation of a blood orange blade as the woman startled awake. 

“Easy, kurs’kaded, we’re home,” She repeated, laying her hand on their forearm as their eyes jumped around the cockpit. “Put that away, Mandalorians don’t have a great history with Jetti, no matter where they fall on the broad spectrum.” 

Shin was slow to disengage her saber, tucking it into her robes where it would not be visible. 

Waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp, Mand’alor Bo-Katan Kryze was reuniting with Ahsoka, the Togruta and Mandalorian holding each other at arms length as if they hadn’t seen each other in some time. It has been some time, Sabine thought bitterly, thinking back to Bo-Katan informing them of the vice grip Moff Gideon had on the Mandalore system over ten years ago. 

“Lady Wren,” Bo-Katan called once she caught sight of the mop of purple hair descending the ramp. 

“Mand’alor,” Sabine’s head dipped, though she was startled when strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. 

“It’s good to see you, verd’ika,” Bo-Katan finally released her, stepping back to study the younger Mandalorian in the same manner she had Ahsoka. 

Age was starting to wear at the redhead, but if anything, she’d looked better than Sabine could ever remember. Her shoulders stood a little wider, chin held higher, and the air around her was no longer charged with the electrifying tension of the weight of the galaxy closing in on her. Retaking Mandalore and uniting the tribes after the series of devastating losses she’d seen Mandalore suffer through had been good for her, though Sabine quickly came to guess why the woman was so much more relaxed. 

A stockier, golden helmeted Mandalorian stood off to the right of Bo-Katan, and while Sabine couldn’t see their face, she could just tell that they were staring at Bo with the same heart eyes she often sent Shin’s way when her own face was concealed. 

Bo was quick to greet Hera, though, she was much less touchy with the Twilek, their interactions even across the span of the Rebellion had been brief and never in person, and no amount of praise from Ahsoka would get Bo-Katan to place that much trust in the General just yet. “Lady Kryze,” Hera took the woman’s offered hand, turning to Sabine after they parted. “It’s nice to see you doing well, same with Mandalore,” Hera remarked, recalling the stories Sabine had been shared over the destruction of the capital of the Mandalore system, and the planets surrounding it.

“There’s a surprising amount of progress to be made when we aren’t all trying to kill each other,” Bo agreed, her own gaze shifting to Mando Motors where a new-build star ship was being tested in their airspace. “Speaking of trying to kill each other,” Chartreuse colored eyes flickered to Shin, who had dropped back to Ahsoka’s side as introductions were passed around. “You’re the dar’jetti who almost killed my verd’ika?” 

Shin’s gaze danced over to the redhead, brows furrowing as she sized her up. “There is no almost about it, if I wanted her dead, she would be, no?” They deadpanned, chin jerking up to meet the older woman’s narrowing eyes.

Sabine’s hand reached out to Shin’s shoulder, squeezing just around the armor. “Oro’nas, Kurs’kaded,” She whispered as she placed herself between the two. 

Bo-Katan’s lips had pressed into a thin line as she studied the woman. Instead of pushing like she may have done just months before, Bo-Katan switched the subject to the woman standing to her right. “Ahsoka, Sabine, this is my Riduur,” 

“Does your Riduur have a name?” Ahsoka followed up with her hands settling on her hips as she eyed the person who’d captured the heart of the Kryze. Hera reached to lightly smack the Togruta’s shoulder. 

“Hey, be nice or I’ll leave you on the ship,” Hera warned, only half joking at the woman’s standoffish tone towards Bo-Katan’s… whatever the kark a ‘Riduur’ was. 

“It’s my ship, cyarika,” Ahsoka pointed out with a shake of her head, a smile pulling at her lips as The Armorer stepped forward to take her hand, head nodding in an air of respect to the woman.

“You may call me The Armorer,” She addressed them all, though her focus was on Ahsoka until they released each other’s hands. The Armorer stepped back and turned her attention back to Bo-Katan, when the woman’s head dipped to allow the woman to take charge, she spoke up again. “If you would follow us, the Sundari Civic center has recently been reconstructed and will house everyone for their stay,” 

“Vor entye, goran’alor,” Sabine’s head dipped, ignoring the looks she received from both Hera and Ahsoka as she grabbed Shin’s hand and followed The Armorer and Bo-Katan from the landing pad. 

The throne room was a wonderful sight, clan sigils and important pieces of their history decorated the floors and the walls, the song of paz vizsla was etched into a column bearing the sigil of his clan, along with the songs etched by those who knew the stories of the ancestors. Along a far wall, a stained glass portrait of Satine Kryze was displayed prominently along the surface, the sigil of Clan Kryze residing near the stone closest to the throne as well, bathing the strip of royal blue carpet running up to the throne in multi-colored lights. 

“Wow,” Ahsoka remarked as they walked between climbing pillars, filled with the history of their people. “Sundari’s always looked so artificial. . . It’s amazing to see it look like a home,” 

“It hasn’t felt that way for a long time,” Bo-Katan mused thoughtfully, eyes straying from their path to the portrait of her Ori’vod. “I’m glad we were able to do this, after everything. And I’m sorry we didn’t send out the call, Sabine. I know you wanted to be here,” 

Sabine’s eyes cast downwards to the several pairs of boots moving across the carpet across from her. “Yeah, but… we’re here now, and Mandalore is healing.”

Shin watched Sabine from the corner of her eye, catching Ahsoka’s gaze as well as they both felt the wave of grief that washed over their Mandalorian. Shin’s shoulder bumped against Sabine’s, before she was reaching to slide her thumb in the space between her moon’s vambrace and forearm, tugging her closer with each swing of their arms until both women were practically tripping over each other. 

Ahsoka eased up when the grief was washed away by playfulness as both Apprentices tried to dodge tripping over each other. Hera walked beside Ahsoka, only staying quiet at the small shake of Ahsoka’s head when she was about to warn them to be careful. 

“We built quarters into the foundations here, all of our tests have proven that in the case of…” Bo-Katan trailed off, only continuing when The Armorer’s hand rested on the small of her back, under her jetpack. “Well… They should hold up if there were an orbital strike… again.” 

Shin knew that both Ahsoka and herself were having the same thoughts about the two unhelmeted Mandalorians in their entourage; They both had a knack for beating the hell out of themselves. 

Even without a force sensitivity that Ahsoka could feel in The Armorer, the blacksmith seemed to recognize the shift immediately and stepped in. They paused, which had caused their whole party to stop, though no one breathed a word when The Armorer moved to press their helmet against Bo-Katan’s forehead, no doubt a silent conversation happening between the two women who needed no words to converse. 

Shin had paused with them, though her own attention had been brought to her own Mandalorian’s reemerging spike of grief. With her hand still slid into her vambrace, Shin raised Sabine’s arm. Her movements were slow, but certainly succeeded in pulling her from her thoughts before the blonde could get her arm all the way to her mouth. “Shin, not right now,” Sabine’s cheeks darkened immediately, head jerking to the entourage around them. 

“Mandalorians,” Ahsoka remarked as Bo-Katan and Sabine both came back from their proverbial ledges. Bo-Katan, in all her glory, only shoved Ahsoka hard enough to make her sway before they continued their journey. 

Shin’s hand slid from Sabine’s vambrace to find her hand once more, letting their fingers lock together as the vaulted ceiling of the throne room turned into carved out tunnels and strategically placed lights and pillars, the entire structure ready to support a battle on as many fronts as possible. 

“Sabine, your vod’ika sends his regards, and has been for… literally years,” Bo-Katan announced as they found the wing that had been purposed into quarters, strong reinforced doors along the halls, along with alarm lights and intercoms running all along the ceiling of the hall. 

“Is he here?” There was a hint of excitement in her tone, after cutting her aliit off for so long, with her thoughts of failing her people and branding herself dar’manda as punishment for not helping, she couldn’t deny that she was excited to see anyone who bore the symbol of clan wren again, moreso her little brother, and she would be lying if she didn’t say she missed her buire. 

She could sense the footsteps before she could hear them. When the door to the apartment opened, Sabine had barely a moment to brace herself before her mother’s arms were being thrown around her. Shin had stepped back when Ursa had hugged Sabine, their hand twitching to their saber on instinct, though, Ahsoka was thankfully right behind them to grab their elbow and mouth ‘mother’ to get the wolf to relax a smidge. 

“Oh, ad’ika,” Ursa called as Sabine sank into the woman’s embrace. If it hadn’t been for Kanan and Ezra, she wasn’t sure the gap between them could have ever been filled, but now, even at thirty, Sabine was more than thankful for the warmth of her mother’s embrace. 

“Buir,” Sabine returned, clutching at the gray and yellow painted armor of Ursa’s back-plate. 

Ursa pulled back and reached to hold her daughter's face in her hands. “Ad’ika, look at you,” It had been some time since they had seen each other, since Sabine had the energy to leave Lothal, and since her mother’s health permitted her to travel far beyond the Mandalore system. 

“Why did I get a call that you were stabbed?” Ursa’s face turned serious in a flash, startling Shin, though it seemed to go as expected for Sabine who sighed. 

“jetti osik, buir,” Sabine grumbled, though she did raise her shirt when Ursa started looking her over like she could see through her shirt. “She missed,”

“No, she didn’t,” Ursa’s fingers hovered over the mark before she spun to face Shin in a sweeping movement. Instead of backing down, the gray apprentice raised their chin and squared their shoulders to meet her head on. “You didn’t miss,” It was meant to come out like a question, though it was more of a statement. 

Shin’s lips pulled back to bare her teeth. “I never miss,” 

Bo-Katan’s hands rested on her hips as she watched Ursa, motioning for Sabine to walk slowly back to her as the young force sensitive and the older Mandalorian squared each other up.

“So you don’t,” Ursa backed down first, which came as a surprise to everyone but Hera and Shin. 

Sabine’s eyes had widened as she looked between Shin and Ursa. Bo-Katan leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Your buir is going to try and fight them,” 

“Oh gods,” Sabine grumbled as Ursa stepped back, allowing Sabine to wedge herself between the two. 

“When I stabbed your mom, I had to fight Alrich,” Bo-Katan shrugged nonchalantly in an explanation as Shin looked between the Mandalorians. 

“Do I need to take this out or not?” Shin’s hand wrapped around the saber under her hilt, glancing between Ursa, Bo-Katan, and Sabine.

“Nobody!” Ahsoka stepped in, laying her hand on Shin’s forearm and shaking her head. “Certainly not right now, oro’nas, Kurs’kaded,” Sabine mouthed a quiet thank you as the blonde let go of her saber. 

“Moving on?” Hera butted in, jerking her head beyond the hall. 

“Please,” Sabine grabbed Shin’s hand and tugged them to the front of the group, despite having no clue where they were going. Bo-Katan and The Armorer followed behind, and while the Mand’alor was content to watch the two get lost in the halls, The Armorer was kinder and reached to tap Sabine’s shoulder to guide each turn. 

The next hall was full of empty rooms, though it was clear one had been cleared out to be made hospitable. “Ahsoka, General, this is where you guys will stay, everything else is storage at the moment,” 

“Hera’s fine, you know, Lady Kryze,” The Twilek crossed her arms over her chest, a smirk pulling at her lips when Bo-Katan looked back at her. 

“Then Bo-Katan is fine,” Because really, Lady Kryze made her skin crawl unless it came from The Armorer. And Bo, well… that one was reserved for Satine, The Armorer, Din, and Ursa… Everyone else who used it was on thin karking ice. 

They moved on, the great forge had tunnels winding all the way to the Mandalorian palace. “Wow.” Sabine blinked at the sight of the quieted forge. The fires still blazed, simmering and casting a light blue glow around the dimmed workshop. Ursa’s hand rested on Sabine’s shoulder as she took in the sight. She hadn’t seen the forge since she was a toddler, ages ago. 

“It’s beautiful,” 

Shin’s eyes cast around at the in progress works on each workstation, paints shining in the dull lighting. 

“Have we always just had… beskar lying around?” Sabine questioned as she stepped between the workbenches. “Just… here?”

“Beskar is mined from the planet, it belongs to Mandalore, to all Mandalorians,” The Armorer supplied, stepping forward to walk with Sabine as the rest of the group stayed back. Hera’s focus had drifted to the shriek hawks painted on pauldrons resting on workbenches, while Ahsoka kept a careful eye on Shin, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of Sabine.

“The Armorer doesn’t bite, wolf.” Bo-Katan pointed out as she settled her hands on her hips, watching the women as well. “Not unless you ask… really nicely.” Shin’s eyes snapped to her, and Bo-Katan simply hummed her response, nodding her head to the two experts of their crafts. The Armorer’s hand rested on Sabine’s shoulder as she showed off the different designs painted into resting armor pieces all across the room.

“What else will she do if she is asked nicely?” Shin’s brows furrowed, though it was clear this was not the response Bo-Katan was expecting. Instead of waiting around, Shin stepped away, joining the two Mandalorians at the workbench. “Me’suum’ika, Ahsoka has a question,” She interrupted, jerking her head towards the Togruta, the tips of her lekku flickering when she was spotted. 

Sabine, confused and hesitant, dipped her head to The Armorer before joining her Master. 

The Armorer did not turn her head, but her body language turned to the young wolf, waiting for her to speak. 

“You made it,” Shin started after moments of silence. The Armorer’s head turned a fraction, though she did not speak right away. Their lips pulled back to bare her teeth. “If you-“ 

“Lady Wren did warn me you were rather volatile,” The Armorer circled them until her back faced the others, absorbed in their own things. 

When the Armorer reached out, Shin did not cower, even raising her chin in defiance and permission to allow the fabric hiding the strip of leather, fabric, and ring of beskar. 

“Your Mand’alor’s suit pokes out around it,” 

“This is the way,” 

Shin’s brows furrowed as they moved back, the Armorer’s hand dropping with no resistance as they covered it back up. “She wanted to make it herself,” They confided, quieter than before. “Your people do not make armor outside of Mandalore?”

“You have much to learn about our people, but for a long time, after the Mandalorian Purge, there were no Armorers to forge our beskar, there was a goran; a blacksmith or a metal worker for each clan,”  Shin’s hostility simmered as they listened, until The Armorer was guiding them to the line of benches around the stage of the great forge. 

“A goran was responsible for many of their aliit, their clan’s needs. Weaponry, hinges, latches, ship repairs… a goran trusted to mend beskar was an honor passed only between specific clans. It was passed to me young, when troubles in our people grew more pressing. True Mandalorians were banished from this world, at the actions of our predecessors, the Death Watch,” The Armorer paused, though Lady Wren’s wolf had not seemed to lose any interest. 

“There were no goran’alor’s in the Death Watch, and none followed into Lady Kryze’s Niteowls.” The Armorer’s hands folded in her lap. “Lady Kryze had not had her armor maintained properly since she’d left The Death Watch, and much of their kits were passed from the fallen. A new coat of paint does not erase the damage underneath,”

Shin’s brows furrowed at the double meaning, though she was still just as silent, mulling everything over in her head. “You have found an apprentice,”

The Armorer’s head moved, Shin watched as the dark visor fixed on the Mandalorian, excitedly talking to her buir and Master about the legacy pauldrons lining the tables and their place in Mandalorian history. “Not yet, but perhaps one day,” 

The Armorer motioned with her head for Shin to rise, leading the blonde back to the groups as Sabine and Ahsoka were looking over the nearly crafted chest pieces and the different designs each mandalorian had chosen for their heart. 

When they rejoined the group, Sabine’s head dipped in acknowledgement of The Armorer once more. “You work is kandosii’la, goran’alor,” The artist complimented, making room as the golden helmeted warrior reached for one of the lone kar’tase on the table. 

Bo-Katan shifted her weight, shoulder brushing The Armorers as she turned. “General Syndulla! You’re a pilot, MandoMotors is releasing a new prototype Kom’rk class fighter, lets go check it out,” Everyone but Sabine was funneled from the forge, through the tunnels, and to the factory producing the next generation of starfighters. 

“I have heard much about you, Lady Wren,” The Armorer started after a pregnant pause permeated the air around them. 

Sabine shifted the weight of an unpainted beskar pauldron in her hand, staring at the glint of the lights in the reflection. “Hopefully not all bad,” The violet haired woman didn’t look up, though she could see The Armorer reflected in the metal. 

“Mandalorian, you are a Mandalorian. Through the good times and the bad,” The Armorer moved to take. “Through peace and through war,”

“When has there ever been peace?” 

There was a sound from the vocoder, almost like a warm chuckle, distorted through the crackling sound. “Tell me, Lady Wren,” The woman reached to take the pauldron from her hands and set it back aside. Sabine’s breath caught in her throat as the woman’s hand reached out again, though she did not touch, gloved fingertips just an inch from the kar’ta at the top of her chest plate. “How do you keep your heart?” 

Sabine’s jaw locked as her eyes focused on the strip of metal, high up on The Armorer’s chest, keeping her heart in place. “Pain only makes us stronger, I had to hold on tight,” 

“The hottest fires forge the strongest steel,” The Armorer agreed, her hand dropping as she studied the younger Mandalorian’s heart, threatening to break free from the protection around it. “When you keep it under the fires too long, however-” Her hand raised once more to press into the metal, it gave quickly under her touch. “It becomes malleable, growing near impossible to forge into protection over time,” 

Sabine looked down at the orange and silver heart in the woman’s hands. She’d repainted it time and time again with the promise of starting over, even when she’d packed her heart away after the fall of Mandalore. “Come,”

The Armorer led Sabine to the great forge, turning knobs and sparking fires as she circled the mass of stone and heat to get it to temperature. The forge burned hot in no time, and soon, The Armorer was walking Sabine through submerging her chest plate in the smelter with The Armorer’s instruction. Watching her armor melt in the smelter, dirt, paint, and other impurities catching fire as it melted down. 

Beskar ingots were added once the impurities were removed, giving them more material to work with when it was finished. Once the metal was all liquid, The Armorer guided Sabine through using the tongs to raise the stone pot and walk it to the many molds. The Armorer then retrieved a datapad with the many different chest plate designs, allowing Sabine to find the mold closest to her own. 

The Armorer took the lead in pouring the metal into the first mold, creating flat plates of beskar. After the casts were cooled enough to shape, The Armorer moved the plates to the machine to the side of the forge, smaller flames reheating the metal enough for it to take shape once more. The slamming of the files against the metal filled the room, when Sabine froze, The Armorer pushed onwards. 

“We lost contact with Clan Wren…” Manadlore was lost, Imperial transports were landing to raze everything that survived the bombs, “Sabine… They’re gone…” Electricity arcing across her skin as The Duchess was turned against her. “You named your weapon after my sister?” “You ran from the Empire, you ran from your Family, so what’s the truth?!” “I left to save everyone! Everything I did was for family! For Mandalore!” 

“Ezra! Please! Get out of there!” 

“Hey Sabine, sorry for disappearing on you. I made this recording because more than the others, I need you to understand. As a Jedi, sometimes you have to make the decision no one else can. So, that’s what I did to defeat Thrawn. We’ve been through a lot. Grew up together in this Rebellion. And.. we’re not really family, but you’re like a sister to me. I know your fight isn’t over, and now I won’t be there to help you. But I’m counting on you to see this through. May the Force be with you.”

The Armorer was holding onto her arm, Sabine’s fingers dug into the leather of her gloves, a hand settled on her back to keep her steady. “There are many instances that come to define a Mandalorian,” The Armorer started as Sabine’s focus came back to the fitted metal on the table. “The forge has ways of reminding us all of the steps we’ve taken to get here,” 

Sabine was led to a bench, The Armorer returning with a canteen of water and an Imperial ration bar, leftover from the none too recently halted occupation. Both were taken none too graciously as the artist recentered herself, The Armorer sitting by her side helping her find a tether to the world without the weight of her beskar on her chest. 

The world outside began to retire, indicated when their group had returned to the great forge. Bo-Katan approached, her hand resting on Sabine’s shoulder as her and The Armorer waited for the metal to cool. “Will you be coming to bed tonight?” The Mand’alor questioned, her attention entirely on the golden helmeted woman as she peered over the work. 

The Armorer glanced towards Sabine, who stubbornly shook her head. “We shall reassess where to go from the next phase as soon as the armor is ready.”

Bo pursed her lips, but patted Sabine's shoulder and leaned in to press a kiss to the smooth side of The Armorer’s helmet. “Don’t forget, you both need sleep too, and I know there’s a particular kurs’kaded that’s been missing this one,” 

Sabine’s eyes traveled over to their weary looking group where Shin was standing between Ursa and Ahsoka, looking rather out of place among the two ‘clone war relics’. “We’ll be done soon, right? If it only takes a few hours to repair, it can’t be… that long… to make a new piece?”

It turned out that the metal would take hours, equalizing the temperature, quenching it in oil, and allowing it the time to temper. Grinding away excess and smoothing out hard edges took hours after the fit was perfected to her old design. A neat space was carved out to leave room for her heart, the only piece that they did not melt into something new, which sat undisturbed in the younger Mandalorian’s belt pouch. 

Sabine didn’t crawl into bed until The Armorer urged her away as she nodded off. Shin was already curled up in bed, wearing the extra sleep clothes Sabine had thought ahead to bring (she found early on that her wolf was horrible when it came to packing for a trip), with her jacket bunched up in their arms. 

The Mandalorian shrugged out of the rest of her armor, placing her kar’ta on the nightstand before she slipped her boots and flight suit to the floor. The jacket was pulled carefully from Shin’s hold, tossed over their shoulders as she slipped herself into place to tug her wolf into her arms. 

“Finally,” They grumbled sleepily into her throat, teeth nipping at exposed skin in a gentle reprimand for taking so long.

“Mhmm, go to sleep,”

“Di’kut.” Shin’s use of the Mandalorian phrase kept Sabine awake longer than she’d liked to admit, just what did her buir teach her while she was in the forge?

Translations: Kurs'kaded - Wolf Jetti - Jedi Verd'ika - Little warrior Dar'jetti - Dark Jedi/Sith Oro'nas, Kurs'kaded - Stand down, Wolf Riduur - Spouse Cyar'ika - Darling Vor entye, goran’alor - Thank you Armorer ('alor' giving a position of status) Ori'vod - Older sibling Vod'ika - Little sibling Aliit - Clan/Family Buire - Parents Buir - Parent Ad'ika - Daughter/Child Osik - Crap/Shit Karking - Expletive (fucking) Me'suum'ika - Moon Goran - Blacksmith Kandosii’la, goran’alor - Stunning, armorer Kar'tase - Hearts Di'kut - Idiot Kar'ta - Heart

[azurecanary]

I feel like my main complaint with Star Wars fans is the misunderstanding of Ahsoka Tano's character

(My qualifications: Watched TCW S1-7 + the movie, read her novel, watched Rebels S2&4, watched Mando 2x5 and BoBF 1x6)

She is not anti Jedi because she walked away from the Order. Her best friend framed her in mass murder and terrorism (in an arc i despise for a multitude of reasons) and her leaving the Order was what she needed to do to heal. (Leaving the religion due to trauma from others is something i can relate to a lot)

She is not a Mary Sue for her actions in Siege of Mandalore. She was a teenager suffering from PTSD due to being a child soldier and what occurred in the Wrong Jedi arc and decided to take it out on Maul (and Obi-Wan) after Bo Katan offered her the opportunity.

"I am no Jedi" was not about her rejecting the Jedi Order or the Code. It was her facing the fact that her older brother actively participated in the genocide of her entire culture including and as well as the people she loved (e.g. Padme, Barriss, Obi-Wan (as far as she knows), PLO KOON, etc) and Vader represented everything about that.

Her comments about attachment in Mando and BoBF were not ooc. Ahsoka has always been wary of attachment, especially after Order 66. Or have people just not read the book?

And of fucking course she didn't fucking torture a Nightsister to get information. Even the fact that that comes to mind before "occasionally snarky Jedi says very snarky things" just goes to show that people would rather shit on a Filoni project (which is fair enough) then consider that they have the wrong interpretation of her character.

Ahsoka being anti Jedi is a fabrication created by Jedi haters who want to emulate the "all the perks of the Jedi without the dedication and culture" part of her. And everyone else has just went with it.

[kbirbpods]

Voiceteam 2024 has brought about the need for a new pinned Dear Podficcer Letter! This is kind of a year-round one of sorts for ease of access. This are the fandoms/tropes/etc that I always love, not just what I am hyperfixated on! For events I tend to focus on hyperfixations + always have the section about what I will make outside of my wants ~

So, please look below the cut for my general letter.

Recent-ish letters: Purimgifts '24 | ITPE '23 | Summer Swap '23

Things I Like, Regardless of Fandom:

THEMES: trans/nonbinary characters (extra points for neopronouns); gender exploration in general; found family (genfic or otherwise); angst with a happy ending; polyamory; good asexual or aromantic representation; genfic

TROPES: fix-it fics!! extra points for time travel or time loops in fix its; fake dating/marriage; mutual pining; soulmates (AU or just clearly soulmates); crack treated seriously; rivals-to-friends/lovers; oops only one bed; secret identities

CROSSOVERS!

AUs: soulmates soulmates soulmates; regency era (or any different era); modern AU; crossovers, provided i know the other fandom or the fic doesn’t require knowledge of the other fandom!; college/sport AU; fantasy/fae AUs

Star Wars AUs/Tropes (yes they need their own categories): no Order-66/Order-66 happens differently; force sensitive clones; Jon Antilles lives; [insert clone here] lives; Anakin doesn’t fall; Palpatine dies; Domino Squad Lives; force sensitive Leia; modern AUs; trans clones

PODFIC SPECIFIC: anything epistolary (texting/chat fics especially but letters and such are also fun to explore); including music / SFX if you’re comfortable; including bloopers if you have them/are comfortable exposing them

RATINGS: Contrary to popular belief I do not hate explicit fics so really any rating but I generally prefer G-M because I can be picky about what explicit content I’m absorbing.

Do Not Wants (triggers, squicks, please no):

major archive warnings (major character death is okay so long as it’s temporary and resolved); unhappy endings; I really don’t like pregnancy, which includes MPREG (I like omegaverse dynamics minus that aspect) - kidfic is cool I just don’t want pregnancy as a theme & especially not graphic depictions of it; suicide/self-harm “on screen” (mentions of past suicidal ideation/self harm are fine if not a flashback/graphic); non-/dub-con or any depictions of rape (once again, recovery is okay if done well); adult/minor relationships or relationships with unaddressed/starkly imbalanced power dynamics; any sort of poorly depicted mental health tropes (no BPD or other personality disorder bashing, no institutionalization, no “split personality” as a trope) - i really like explorations of PTSD/trauma but it has to be handled with fidelity and gentleness; and I have a random trigger about cockroaches

as a note: I do not like slave!fic but acknowledge that the situation of the clones is, at it’s core, a form of slavery. so while i ask for slave!fic AUs to be fully avoided, I do appreciate fics that tackle that aspect of the Clone Wars series with tact, fidelity, and honesty.

Fandoms & Characters I Would Love to Receive:

Star Wars: I love so much Star Wars that to split them like I did on AO3 would make this post too long. I think it’s easiest to say this: I prefer Clone Wars, Rebels, Rogue One/Andor, anything about Jon Antilles, anything about Hevy & the Domino Squad, anything Ahsoka Tano, Mandalorian culture (including Din & Grogu content!), and Mandoa as a language.

My main ships are: Cody/Obi-Wan, Kallus/Zeb, Hevy/anyone (consensual), Finn/Poe or Finn/Poe/Rey, blackkat rarepairs (mainly Jon Antilles/anyone), Jon Antilles & Fay (platonic), Waxer/Boil, Fives/Echo, Kanan/Hera, Quinlan/Fox(/Jon), Quinlan/Obi-Wan(/Cody), & Fox/Bail/Breha [also Clone OC ships!!] My favorite characters are: Hevy, Fox, Cody, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Leia, Poe, Fives, Luke, Jon Antilles, Fay (Legends)

Ted Lasso: My favorite ships are Roy/Keeley/Jamie, Ted/Trent, Roy/Keeley, and Jamie/Dani. Ted & Rebecca as platonic soulmates/besties in general. I love explorations of how much Dr. Jacob sucks and fix-its for the ending!

Batfam/DC: I can be picky and yet not? Basically, I just prefer no inner-Batfam fics of the boys because I truly view them as brothers. Jason is my boy forever & always. My favorite ships are Jason Todd/Roy Harper(/Kori), Dick Grayson/Wally West, Harley/Ivy, Tim Drake/Kon, Tim/Bernard, Tim/Kon/Bernard, and Wally/Artemis from Young Justice. This is the fandom that I specifically am obsessed with found family in. – I love exploring Alfred being the boys’ Grandpa and Bruce’s complex dadhood!

The Locked Tomb: I’m definitely Gideon/Harrow on main; I really like fics where one or both of them are trans/nonbinary. Nona is my favorite character so explorations of her found family (the household or the friends or all of them) are important to me. Cam/Pal is important to me. I love modern AUs a lot.

Our Flag Means Death: Obviously Blackbeard/Stede is a big deal and I ship it forever. But my heart belongs to Jim/Olu and any explorations of Jim’s gender identity! Pining Izzy Hands makes me weak, as long as he’s not being abusive towards Edward or Stede, so Izzy/Ed or Izzy/Ed/Stede is always choice.

ATLA: Always and forever a Zuko/Sokka shipper, specifically obsessed with found family in this, gen fic exploring the universe at all is super important to me!!!

All for the Game: Jean/Jeremy forever and always. I will always always eat up Jerejean fics. Of course Andrew/Neil. Renee/Allison. Andrew/Neil/Kevin is perfection. And really just... Gen fics around the Foxes or Trojans will always bring me so much joy.

A RARE ASK: I am super into both Dragon Age & Mass Effect. The former is much easier to find fandom for and there are a lot of fics with blanket permission statements. For Dragon Age, DA:O is my favorite (especially Alistair) or any sort of Hawke!centric fics. But in April 2024 I became re-obsessed with Mass Effect & anticipate it lasting a while. My rare ask is for Mass Effect fics - specifically Shep/Garrus or Shep/Liara (or them as a triad). Or gen fic!! But I feel like I am on an island here lol

MISC OTHERS: The Old Guard; First Kill; The Adventure Zone (Balance & Amnesty); Red, White and Royal Blue; Good Omens; The Tarot Sequence; Teen Wolf; Fallout (New Vegas, Fo4, & the show); Legend of Zelda; and Buffy (especially genfic & crossovers).

Authors with BP that I love, as a starting point:

Flowerparrish, trixree, wanderingjedihistorian, hoebiwan, blackkat, cac0daemonia, elismor_aswell, SunsetsOverLA, friendoftheJabberwock

[aspenstarflare]

Time for more Clone wars Head Cannon time:

-The 501st and 212th defiantly have bets against each other of the state of Anakin and Padmé’s relationship but also Obi-Wan and Cody’s. Ahsoka, Rex, Waxer, and Boil organizing these bets whenever the two legions are together (of course under the noses, of General Skywalker, General Kenobi, and Commander Cody).

-Kix sleeps literally with one eye open, due to his Jedi trying to escape the medbay every time he falls asleep. Every time he drags them back to bed he always mutters something along the line of “stupid self sacrificing jedi ideology, whoever thought the force was a free pass to self neglect will feel my wrath.”

-Speaking of Kix, the entire 501st and also the 212th by extension are terrified of him, once 10 droid invaded his medical tent and he took them all out on his own without a blaster. He also can single handily drag one of his jedi or troopers to the medbay without effort.

-Fives and Echo, the chaos twins who bring destruction wherever they go, will try to sneak into Anakin’s council meetings get into his line of sight, and try everything that is possible to make him laugh. During one meeting where they are more particularly funny Anakin just stands there in a council meeting trying to be silent and stiff as a board while he’s shaking from laughter and mace goes “Is something funny skywalker?” and fives falls on his head from doing a handstand at that moment and Anakin loses it and bursts out laughing like a maniac but refuses to explain why to the council ever. So for the rest of the history of the council, they all think Anakin finds Yoda going on mission to be kriffin hilarious.

-After tough missions the troopers of the 501st like to huddle together in a cuddle pile (although only Ahsoka calls it that), Ahsoka discovering this one night while they were all sleep in their huddle, hopped into the pile and snuggled up with them as she couldn’t fall asleep because of a nightmare that has her in a panic attack and Anakin was no where to be found. Cut to the next morning Anakin is panicking about where Ahsoka is and bursts into the barracks to ask the troopers if they’ve seen Ahsoka just to find her in the pile of his troopers between Jesse and Fives. He finds the sight too wholesome to disrupt so he takes a picture of it and leaves. Letting his children sleep in. He ends up framing that picture in his quarters much to Ahsoka’s annoyance when she finds it.

-Sometimes when the clones in the 501st have a illness like a cold instead of going to Kix (much to his annoyance) they to to their General. Sometimes they just want General Skywalker’s hugs, reassurance, and help. Appreciating the fatherly presence and warmth he gives them. He also happens to be really good at spotting when his troopers are ill, which Kix does actually appreciate because better they get General Skywalkers help then no help. (And Anakin does eventually tend to bring his sick troop to the medbay to make sure they’re alright)

-Sometimes on missions where locals are around a person or two has flirted with Ahsoka making her annoyed and uncomfortable as most of them tended being men older than her, but even the people who are age appropriate make her uncomfortable too as she isn’t interested in anyone at all. Usually Anakin would cut in and tell them to Kriff off and get away from his Padawan, but this time, Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, and Hardcase beat him to it. With Fives punching the 30 year old guy in the face, Echo shoving him to the ground, Jesse kicking him in the side, Hardcase stepping on him hard so he can’t move, and Rex telling him to never speak or go near his little sister again, telling him to kriff off before he faces a fate worse than death. Anakin smiles at them proudly while Ahsoka silently cries happy tears in the background from being called a “little sister” by her vod.

-I believe it’s already canon or a really universal headcanon that the clones speak mando, but I believe once Anakin and especially Ahsoka learn this they are both immensely determined to learn how to speak it, much to the hesitance to the 501st initially, they aren’t sure as it’s something that their’s. But quickly they get really close to both the commander and general and adopt them as their Vod’ika and Buir and teach them a few words until by the near end of the war it escalates to basically the entire language. (Anakin cries a lot when he learns what Buir means)

[dinluke-ao3feed]

Read it on https://archiveofourown.org/works/52475998 by ShyOwl Luke’s self-promised timeframe for his father is coming to an end and it does not seem like Anakin Skywalker is ready to break free from the grasp of Palpatine nor the Dark-side. Now fearing his presences is making Vader obsessed, now fourteen-year-old Luke decides an escape is needed and a change in plan is unavoidable. Running to familiar, and unfamiliar, faces and from both his father and his friend, Jedi apprentice Din Djarin, Luke fears the changes he has made are becoming uncontrollable and dangerous than originally believed. Words: 10795, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Sunburst Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Leia Organa, Paz Vizsla, Beru and Owen Lars, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Reva Sevander | Third Sister, Ahsoka Tano, Bail and Breha Organa - Character Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Din Djarin & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Din Djarin & Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker, Owen Lars & Luke Skywalker & Beru Whitesun Additional Tags: Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Luke Skywalker Needs Therapy, Luke Skywalker-centric, Force Sensitive Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker is Bad at Feelings, Darth Vader A+ parenting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Martyr Behavior, Found Family, Family Feels, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Potential Whump, lots of hurt before comfort, Time Travel Fix-It

[veradragonjedi]

YEEAAAAHH

BBB ch27 :)

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish @thechaoticfanartist @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @funkyphonophorae @proftree @bison-appreciation-club @justanothercatastrophe @purple-goo-writes

(tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Tags and other shizz under the cut!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Cara Dune & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo

Characters:

Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cobb Vanth, Cara Dune, R2-D2, Ahsoka Tano, Ben Solo

Additional Tags:

Human/Vampire Relationship, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Alternate Ending, Grogu | Baby Yoda Ships Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke trains Din with the Darksaber, Vampire Luke, Post-The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 02, R2-D2 hates Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Whump, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Squick, Canon-Typical Violence, violence in general, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Friends To Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Only like half the time though, The other half is, Sad Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker has PTSD, Luke Skywalker Has ADHD, Autistic Din Djarin, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Well theyre both aspec- itll be clearer in the future i swear (Din is demi Luke is grey), Touch-Starved Luke Skywalker, WHOOOOOO, Co-parents To Lovers

Language: English

Words: 147,006 -> Chapters: 27/?

[cross-d-a]

Fandom: Star Wars, Jedi Apprentice Series, Jedi: The Dark Side Comics, The Wrath of Darth Maul, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Star Wars: Rebels

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: Feemor & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Feemor & Qui-Gon Jinn, Feemor & Darth Maul, Feemor/Mace Windu, Feemor & Clone Troopers, Dooku & Feemor

Characters: Feemor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Darth Maul, Dooku, Mace Windu, Asajj Ventress, Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Kilindi Matako, Clone Trooper 99, Yoda, Rael Averross, Komari Vosa, Ahsoka Tano, Grand Inquisitor, Bendu, Original Clone Troopers

Additional Tags:  Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst, Fluff, PTSD, Yoda’s Disaster Lineage, Found Family, Enemies to Friends to Family, Darth Maul Redemption, Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Darth Maul Being a Little Shit, Feemor Needs a Hug, BAMF Feemor, Protective Feemor, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Qui-Gon, Protective Dooku, Teenage Terror Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clone Troopers and Jedi as Found Family, Grand Inquisitor Backstory, Force Shenanigans, Mortis Arc, Mace is having a Crisis, Grief/Mourning, Discussions of Canonical Suicide, Temporary Character Death

Summary:

Feemor Aylward dies by his Clone Commander’s hand, then wakes up 24 years in the past.

Feemor has no idea what’s going on, but he’s going to do his damned best to fix whatever the kark just happened. Too bad he was never really involved in that whole Skywalker mess. Guess it’s time to actually get acquainted with his crazy disaster lineage.

(Sidious is just confused about how all his pawns keep slipping out from beneath his thumb.)

[the-og-gingergirl]

Star Wars -fanfic: The Last Jedi - Between Fates part 1

Summary: Rey is on her mission to find the legendary Jedi Luke Skywalker, but the man wants nothing to do with her. But she cannot give up when the fate of the Galaxy is at stake and the secrets of her own past and powers are not yet revealed.

Kylo Ren is set to finish his training to become a Sith lord but his spirit has been shattered by the killing of Han Solo. His master sends him to hunt down the Skywalker - and the scavenger girl, as well. Eager to get rid of the conflict, Kylo Ren takes on the mission.

Finn has fallen into a coma after his encounter with Ren, but in his sleep, his spirit travels somewhere between and meets someone who is adamant that Finn is force sensitive.

Poe Dameron tries to be the hero he wants to be, but the scars on his mind from Ren's interrogation are still fresh.

The Light and Dark meet once again as the fate of the Force takes its next turn.

In short: my attempt to fix "The Last Jedi" with the following:

Slow burn Reylo and Stormpilot

Leia stays in command 100% of the time

Finn is force-sensitive

the Knights of Ren actually have a meaning

Ahsoka Tano and Ezra Bridger are part of the story

NO Cantonica side quest!

Palpatine's return IS planned beforehand

and lots more fun for the whole family!

Rating: Teen and up

Parings: Reylo and Stormpilot

Tags: The Last Jedi fix it, force bond, manipulative Snoke, PTSD, mental health issues, eventually a happy ending, did I mention Reylo and Stormpilot, force ghosts, character death, and more, (to find out more, read the tags at AO3)

Where to read: AO3

Happy readings!