friend-of-kyoshi · 7 months ago
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“Jedi are firemen in a world where the police won’t arrest arsonists.”
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sonic-fairyspell · 4 months ago
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Some Star Wars Memes I made.
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antianakin · 1 year ago
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Just realized that TCW managed to completely and utterly spit in the face of everyone who believed the Jedi Order didn't see droids as sentient and didn't respect them and would have scoffed and derided Anakin for his interest in them.
Because Huyang exists and he literally holds the rank of Master due to his incredible experience in the art of creating lightsabers. The initiates are gently scolded for their shock about it in the Gathering arc and then it never comes up again and they all treat Huyang like one of them because he IS.
So fuck all of the headcanons and Legends material that claims the Jedi don't respect or like droids, they're literally the only people we see that manage to give a droid an actual rank and a position of power within their culture (by contrast, Naboo and Alderaan appear to care for their droids and treat them with respect, but there's no indication anywhere that they have droids in positions of power or leadership similar to Huyang being a Jedi Master).
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the-white-queen001 · 1 year ago
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Don't suppose anyone knows any Jedi friendly Discord servers, do they? I'm more of a lerker and don't respond much but I wanna extend my little circle of comfortable vibing. Also any legends Discords that are nice and don't trash on any other groups of people. I just need a couple more places to vibe in.
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mearchy · 8 months ago
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The best fics are the ones that recognize that although Luke Skywalker may APPEAR on the outside to be a normal friendly twink who happens to have cool powers, especially when contrasted with such ship partners as Boba or Din or even Han, he is arguably the scariest person alive in the galaxy around the prequel era. AND, crucially, he is also a fundamentally weird guy. This man was homeschooled on a rural farm his entire life and then apprenticed to a swamp gremlin who showed him how to tap into the cosmic power of the universe. He blew up the death star age 19, killing approx 2 million-ish Imperials. He is a vortex of Force power that can communicate with the ghosts of dead Jedi. He’s staring into the distance and mumbling to himself and doing Yoda aphorisms and casually pulling out the “yeah I could crush that guy into a paste with my mind (:” and nobody around him knows what to do with that. I think he is a character who has very little frame of reference for how a Jedi or a person in general is supposed to act and there is some thing about him that is by necessity really fucking weird and a little scary but he’s so nice that it can throw you off the scent a little bit. Thanks for coming to my TED talk
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stealingpotatoes · 3 months ago
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AU where Trilla doesn't get stabbed, escapes, and helps Merrin and Cal (best ship and no one can convince me otherwise ❤) raise Kata!
oh I think jedi survivor would've happened veeery differently if trilla had been around
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(commission info // tip jar!)
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onlykenobimatters · 1 month ago
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In which the kaminoans make a simple clerical error and hand Prime the wrong clone; Jango spends months doting on and loving his son only for them to come to him and apologize: they confused his unaltered clone with CC-2224. They take his son his Kote the clone from his arms and settle another little bundle there and it pulls loose the thought he’d been so desperate to never think: they’re just babies. Children. If there wasn’t something intrinsically different between them, then Jango had condemned children to death.
Jango can feel a massive headache coming on as he clutches the clone the child his son and wonders where he took a wrong turn in his life.
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iszapizza · 1 year ago
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fair to say they don’t get along
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vizslasaber · 6 months ago
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FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i.
summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.
pairing: captain rex x female jedi!reader
word count: 3.9k
warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it
a/n: it’s back!!! previously i posted this series on my main, @brrmian, but i changed that blog’s username and have mostly shifted over to fanart and general SW content. i’ve decided to dedicate this new side blog’s content entirely to fic writing under my old username, posting reader insert on here and everything else on ao3! this fic will be updated sparsely but definitely more often than it was on my main. i’ve changed a few things regarding the plot of this series specifically, and i like it a lot more now!!
series masterlist | click here to add or remove yourself from the taglist!
You hadn’t wanted to leave the Temple behind—you still don’t, even lightyears away from the Core.
When the Jedi Council had first made you aware of the plan to have you and a Master you’d never met capture an Umbaran airbase with troops that were not your own, you had put up something of a fight. What right, you demanded, did the Chancellor have the right to simply pull a Jedi from their sacred duty for a trivial air-to-ground assault?
The Council had either not wanted to answer this question or had not known how to, so now you stand on a transport gunship with two clone troopers and an intimidatingly tall Besalisk Jedi Master by the name of Pong Krell. Both of you are holding onto the grab handles hanging from the ceiling; you’re gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are slightly pale, but Krell looks perfectly steady.
Of course he is, you think bitterly. He has four arms.
The atmosphere of Umbara is breathable but strangely thick—fog seeps through the blast door openings, and the lights inside the gunship’s passenger bay seem to have dimmed. Your lightsabers bump against your hips and you wince slightly as sounds of frantic gunfire reach your ears.
This will be your first campaign.
You have seen death before, on missions as a Padawan before the war—but never on this scale, if the reports of your already-knighted friends from the Temple are anything to go by. You only hope that you will be assigned your own battalion soon, so you don’t have to go running around replacing wayward Generals.
It’s hard, standing at the side of an imposing Master, not to feel like a Padawan. The skin behind your right ear burns with the memory of the braid that had been there just last week, waiting to be sheared off as you prepared for your ascension to Knighthood.
While your battalion assignment is pending, Master Windu told you as you stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the Senate has requested that we send two Jedi Knights to replace Skywalker on Umbara.
Master Krell is already on-world, assisting Master Kenobi, but he will need another Jedi’s help if he and the 501st are to take the capital in Skywalker’s stead, Master Plo explained, his hologram flickering as he called in from some faraway world.
All due respect, Masters, you remember asking as you willed yourself not to tremble, but why me? I’ve never been anywhere near the front. I wouldn’t be much help.
Believe in your potential, we do, Master Yoda said. An opportunity for you to do good, the Force has given you.
And that, it was decided, was that.
Even now, after meditating on your anxiety for practically the entire journey through hyperspace, your nerves feel impossibly frayed. The transport jostles, but you only sway slightly, arm already holding onto an overhead handle for balance. There’s a shiny new military-issue commlink attached to your right vambrace. A morbid thought, of calling in a medevac for injured soldiers with this very communicator, crosses your mind—but you let it dissipate.
The gunship suddenly makes a sharp dive, and your stomach swoops—you must be about to land. You spare a glance at General Krell, who has now let go of the grab handles and has crossed all four of his arms over his chest. For a moment, you’re almost tempted to ask how he manages to stay so balanced while the ship is moving, but then the blast doors slide open and the gunship lands in shadowy darkness.
The first person you see is Anakin Skywalker. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger—despite having been knighted several years earlier, as one of the first Padawan victims of the Jedi Military Integration Act. Your Master, ever traditional even when the Order began to stray from its centuries-old teachings, did her best to keep you apprenticed for as long as possible, but even that eventually proved futile.
In the end, you and Anakin are practically of the same age, and yet he has infinite more experience than you. Uncertainty wheedles its way into your chest and slips a pin into your lungs; you’re holding your breath as you follow Krell off the gunship.
Being far shorter than the Besalisk, you have to jump down. When you hit the ground, you shiver at the misty atmosphere, watching as bioluminescent specks of dust fly up underneath your boots.
As the two of you approach, you hear the troopers of the 501st legion mutter amongst themselves, but you push it aside and focus on the pleasantries.
“General Krell. General Neridian,” Anakin says, smiling graciously. “My thanks for the air support.”
“Indeed, General Skywalker,” Krell replies, bowing politely. “The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated.”
“We managed to get here in one piece, though,” you add jokingly, and Anakin smirks, his eyes twinkling. You gesture to the troopers unloading the gunship behind you. “And we brought ration resupplies.”
Anakin nods appreciatively, then raises one eyebrow after a moment, looking slightly confused. “But—that’s not the reason for your visit.”
“No,” Krell admits. “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately.”
“What?” Skywalker demands. “Wh-why?”
“The Chancellor...” you pause, searching for a word, before you settle on, “insisted that you return. The Council had no say on the matter.”
“That is all they would tell us,” Krell adds, though he doesn’t sound displeased.
“Well, I—I can’t just leave my men!” Anakin protests, and for the first time you notice the trooper standing at attention beside him.
He’s identical to all the clones you’ve met, of course, except for one detail—his hair is blond. You wonder vaguely if it would be polite to ask him whether or not it’s natural as you survey his armor. The pauldron on his left shoulder indicates a position of command, but he carries a sense of individuality in the Force that, despite your inexperience with working with them, you’ve come to realize every clone has. His helmet is painted with a distinctly Mandalorian sigil, but it’s not one you recognize.
His gaze is pointed directly ahead; he makes no eye contact with you. Probably just as annoyed at the change of plans as Anakin is, you realize.
Krell moves to speak, jolting you from your thoughts. You recognize Anakin’s agitation, however, so you calmly move to intercept.
“The Council would not just leave your troopers to fend for themselves—not that they aren’t perfectly capable of doing so, of course,” you add, which merits the barest hint of a smile from the trooper standing beside Anakin. “It’s just… well, the Senate needs a Jedi to be at the head of every campaign, and I guess they figured subtracting one of you would mean—”
“���adding two other Jedi,” Anakin says with a snort of derision. “Yeah… sounds like the Senate. But you guys’ll probably get it done faster anyway.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” interjects the trooper, and Anakin looks to him. “We’ll have this city under control by the time you’re back.”
“Generals, this is Captain Rex, my first in command,” Anakin says fondly, and you see something like pride show itself in Rex’s eyes. “You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere.”
“I don’t doubt it,” you affirm earnestly.
“Yes, that is good to hear,” Krell agrees, then places a large hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”
Anakin simply nods at him, then stops beside you and says, “I hear you passed the Trials.”
You gesture to your hair, now void of a Padawan braid. “Apparently so,” you reply. “Funny, I didn’t think you were one to get swept into the rumour mill.”
A grin, boyish and bright, springs to Anakin’s face. “Nah, I’m always one for good gossip.” His expression turns softer, then, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, though… congratulations.”
“Thank you,” you say, but he’s already approaching the gunship and taking hold of one of the grab handles. The ship is off within seconds, and you can’t help but feel apprehensive as it flies away, up into the fog.
Taking a moment to gather yourself, you turn to Rex and offer a polite nod. He returns it, then says, “It is an honour to be serving with you, Generals.”
“The honour is all mine,” you return graciously, and Rex looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops when Krell begins to speak.
“I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honour,” he begins, then—almost as an afterthought—adds, “for a clone.”
Silence.
Your eyebrows shoot up, and as Rex stares at Krell in shock, you feel your armored chest tighten—with frustration or shock, you don’t yet know.
“Stand at attention when I address you,” Krell snaps, turning to face the other troopers, and as Rex obliges, you narrow your eyes and step forward.
“Master Krell,” you start, your jaw tightening, “I do believe it would be far more... prudent to show respect to the soldiers who have so graciously agreed to undertake this mission with us.” You tilt your head questioningly, sending your ponytail swaying. “After all—we are the ones who just arrived.”
A ripple of white-hot anger moves through the Force with lightning speed, but it’s gone before you can take time to process it. Now, all you can feel is something akin to gratitude, trickling like a cool waterfall from where Rex stands, back straight and eyes ahead.
“They agreed to nothing,” Krell counters, and you blink as his wide upper lip curls back to reveal a row of dangerously sharp teeth. “Do not forget, young one, that we are the Generals they serve under at present.”
“I...” you pause, momentarily at a loss for words, then clasp your hands behind your back and force your jaw to unclench. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I also haven’t forgotten that the only way to succeed in this endeavour is to work together.”
“And with what experience do you so kindly bestow this advice upon us, Knight Neridian?” Krell asks, and the question is like a bucket of ice water down the back of your robes.
You swallow, and search for the words to say, but none come. Cheeks burning with shame, you stare determinedly at the ground.
The tension in Krell’s Force signature disappears, as sudden as the crack of a whip, and he draws in a deep breath. You look up as the pouch-like piece of flesh under Krell’s chin grows in size and he begins to pace.
“Nevertheless,” Krell brushes off, acting as though none of your words register with him, “there’s a reason my command is so effective, and it’s because I do things by the book.” He walks past a soldier in an ARC Trooper uniform who has the number five tattooed on his right temple. The trooper doesn’t move as Krell passes him, but you can see a vein on his forehead bulge.
“And that includes protocol,” Krell puts in. He turns to you. “Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”
You bristle. “I—I thought we were to make decisions together,” you protest, raising your chin defiantly.
Technically, there’s nothing to defy, seeing as you hold equal rank with Krell—but the Council specified in their briefing that this was supposed to be a learning experience, an introduction to combat before receiving your own battalion. And something about Master Krell demands respect, or at the very least obedience, despite the fact that you’re starting to want to do everything you can not to give it to him.
Krell simply huffs and turns around, his yellow eyes flashing, and walks away, leaving you surrounded by a platoon troopers.
You frown after him. “Well, now I know why Master Venn wished me good luck,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Some of the troopers snicker, but you hardly notice.
Your former master, Esya Venn, had pulled you aside just before leaving. The look on her face had been nothing short of concerned, but you’d shrugged it off in the moment, even when she’d told you to be careful, Padawan. She never told anyone to be careful—it was simply a reflex to think twice about your actions around Esya.
But now you understand.
Scrubbing a hand over your tired face, you take a deep breath and turn to Captain Rex. “Shall we set off?” you ask, and he nods, promptly putting on his helmet.
“Move out, soldiers!” he shouts, starting down the path after Krell. “Come on, let’s go!”
You give Rex a grateful smile, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s returning it. With one last glance at the battalion, you hurry to the front and fall into step next to General Krell.
It’s silent for some time. Krell doesn’t deter, no matter how dark it gets, and after a while you begin to grow uncomfortable next to him. The anger you’d felt in the Force earlier is dormant, but certainly there, and it makes chills erupt down your spine.
"I’m going to check on the Captain,” you say, and Krell only nods when you turn around and quickly find Rex, who’s walking about two meters behind where you previously were.
The Captain salutes briefly. “General.”
“Captain,” you reply politely, before glancing back at Krell. “I can’t help but notice that there’s—” you pause for a moment. Do these troopers know enough about the Force to have conversations with you about it?
Knowing Anakin, you realize, they probably do, so you clear your throat and continue. “I get a strange feeling from Master Krell,” you say quietly.
Rex’s shoulders relax just slightly. “How so, sir?”
You bite your lip and shake your head. “I don’t know, exactly,” you reply, then gesture vaguely in front of you, where Krell is half-visible in the murky fog. “The Force around him is unclear. It’s... hard to explain.”
“Hard to explain, as in it’s a Jedi thing?” Rex guesses, and you grin widely.
“Yes,” you say. “It’s a Jedi thing.” Reaching up, you curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“I may not be a Jedi, sir,” Rex says after a moment, “but I think I know what you mean by strange feeling.”
“Quicken that pace, battalion!” Krell suddenly shouts over his shoulder, and you jump. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino.”
You sigh and raise your voice, turning to the troopers. “What General Krell means,” you call, pointedly shooting a glare at the Besalik’s back, “is that we must continue to make good time. Keep up the good work.”
Krell gives no answer, but you feel a ripple of frustration coming from his direction. There’s another thread in the Force, one of gratitude, but you can’t tell where exactly it’s coming from. You latch onto it nonetheless and file the feeling away for later, letting yourself make an easy pace just ahead of Rex.
“He certainly has a way with words,” you hear one of the clones say, and when you glance behind you out of the corner of your eye, you can see that the source is someone with similar armor to Rex’s. Another ARC, or someone of similar rank.
There’s a sigh. You think it’s from Rex. The troopers obviously don’t know you’re listening, so you direct your gaze ahead, keeping your pace steady.
“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex explains, voice hushed and sounding a bit sheepish.
"By raising everyone’s ire?” the other trooper grumbles.
“Either way, he’s in charge,” Rex protests. “And we’ve got a job to do.”
“She’s in charge, too,” hisses the trooper, and you purse your lips, knowing he’s pointing to you.
Another sigh, again from Rex. “Just—treat them both with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”
You’re about to turn around when your neck stiffens. It’s an instinctual reaction, like the Force tapping you on the shoulder—one that you’ve learned to interpret as a warning. Less than a second later, a loud screech echoes above your head.
“Ready your weapons!” Rex shouts, at the same moment you draw one lightsaber.
Faster than your eyes can process, a winged creature swoops down and grabs a trooper—but you don’t need your eyes. The cyan beam of your lightsaber casts a glow on the shadowy ground, and you jump upwards, landing on a large plant that allows you to swing from a vine and graze the blade across the wing of one of the creatures. It falls to the ground with another screech before flying away, relatively unharmed.
One to go.
You’re about to grab hold of a second vine and swing towards the other creature, but a flash of blurred blue and green makes you pull back—Krell beats you to it, landing on top of the creature and wrestling it to the ground.
“Wait—stop!” you shout as he draws his lightsabers, but it’s too late. He’s already skewered the creature mercilessly, and it lies dead on the ground, life blinking out of the Force in an instant.
You jump off of the large plant, landing on both feet, and hook your now deactivated lightsaber onto your belt. “Why did you kill it?” you demand, pushing past several onlooking clones.
“It is nothing more than a violent inhabitant of this area,” Krell dismisses, and you feel your jaw drop.
“But…” you start, at a loss for words. “The Code decrees—”
“The Code,” Krell says coldly as he turns to stare at you, “allows for self defense.”
You draw yourself up to your full height, switching off your lightsaber with a snap-hiss before hooking it back onto your belt. “That’s not what—”
Krell’s lightsabers deactivate loudly, cutting you off, and he returns them to either side of his belt before turning away and continuing on the path. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”
No one answers, but you feel your fists clench as if of their own accord.
This is going to be a long night.
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Umbara’s plant life is fascinating. Observing the bioluminescent life forms is the only thing that serves a proper distraction from both the grumbling clone troopers and the pit of apprehension in your stomach. You’d been walking for twelve hours, give or take, and every time you’d tried to suggest a break to Krell, he’d snapped at you.
This can’t be allowed, you think bitterly, skipping over a glowing pink tree root, boots skidding on the dark purple ground.
You chew on your bottom lip and glance at the clones behind you. They are understandably worn out, and even with the extensive survival training Master Esya drilled into you as a Padawan, you were starting to get tired, too.
“Sir,” says a voice from behind you, and you jump, expecting in your exhaustion to see Krell—but it’s just Rex.
“We’ve been keeping this pace for almost half a rotation,” Rex points out, sounding vaguely nervous. “The men are... starting to tire. General Krell is...” he tilts his head, expressionless visor unreadable. “You know.”
You muster a smile, hoping you look at least a little like Master Enya, and nod.
“I know, Captain,” you say, and he shifts slightly, as though his blue-painted pauldron is uncomfortable. You can’t blame him. Running a hand over your ponytail, you blow out a breath and frown at the puff of air that appears in front of you. “Let me talk to him. Tell the men to start searching for a good spot to camp for a few hours.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Rex giving an affirmative thumbs up to the troopers behind him, but by then you’re already approaching Krell, clasping your hands tightly behind your back.
“Master Krell,” you start, and Krell turns his head just a bit. “I’ve told the men to scout for a place to rest. I reviewed the mission plan on the way here, and we can spare three hours without being delayed, possibly more—”
“The men don’t need rest,” Krell interrupts, and you feel your cheeks flush with anger. “They need resolve to complete the task at hand.”
“Apologies, Master,” you say, squaring your shoulders as frustration heats your neck and face. You breathe deeply. There is no emotion, only peace. “But I don’t think the men will be on their best game when we reach the capital if they don’t take some time to gather themselves.”
“That they need to ‘gather themselves’ is a sign of weakness,” Krell cuts in, stopping and turning to face you with a sneer. “That is not what these clones were bred for.”
Not far away, many of the soldiers bristle at Krell’s choice of words, but you keep your focus on the yellow eyes staring you down for the second time that night.
“They weren’t bred to be mindless droids, either,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest and making sure to keep your voice even. “And in case you’ve forgotten, even battle droids need to recharge. If we march on the Capital without any sort of break first, I promise you, this mission will not go as planned. Exhausted and underfed soldiers are a guaranteed disadvantage.”
Krell studies you, a sneer forming on his lips. “I see you take after your Master’s incessant need to get the last word on anyone she disagrees with.”
You scowl. “I beg your pardon, but Master Venn is—”
He ignores you, cutting past where you stand and walking away. “Do what you wish, Neridian,” he dismisses, then walks away to stand by a glowing tree.
A sigh escapes your lips, and you close your eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder not to snap at him—but you know what the Order’s teachings require of you. Emotion, yet peace.
You grimace as Krell retreats to the back of the line, then turn back to the troopers nearby and give Rex a nod. The captain returns it in what you hope is a grateful manner, then calls for the men to make camp at the top of the ridge your group has been climbing.
By the time you gather all the troopers together, the battalion has put together a hasty campsite, with half the troopers having fallen into a fitful sleep and the other half keeping watch while eating as many rations as the limit allows. You frown and approach the trooper you heard Rex talking to earlier, his Force signature familiar from when you were eavesdropping. His helmet is now sitting in his lap, being meticulously cleaned with what little supplies the battalion has on hand.
You study the soldier. He has a tattoo on his right temple, and upon studying it, you realize it’s the same ARC trooper who’d been glaring at Krell when you stepped off the gunship. You wonder what significance the number five has to him.
Taking another step forward, you clear your throat. “Trooper,” you begin, and the soldier looks up curiously before abruptly shooting to his feet and snapping off a salute. You wave a nonchalant hand. “No need for that. I only wanted to ask a favor—can you gather troopers to stand watch? Six at a time, tops, and make sure they take turns so everyone can rest. That includes you.”
“You got it, sir,” says the trooper, and you smile.
“Sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name...” you say, then, and the trooper blinks.
“Oh, uh—it’s Fives, sir.”
“I see,” you reply, gaze flickering to his tattoo and back again. “Thank you, Fives.”
You retreat to your own tent soon after, shrugging off your vambraces and arranging them neatly next to your bedroll. This wouldn’t be the shortest sleep cycle you’d had, what with the nature of your apprenticeship at the temple—but not the longest, either.
From what you can hear inside your tent, the camp is silent. Slowly, you poke your head through the canvas flaps to find exactly six men—as you’d requested—sitting in the center of camp. Farther away, at the outskirts of the circle of tents, sits Master Krell’s hulking form. In spite of yourself, you frown.
“General?” asks a sudden voice above you; letting out an involuntary yelp, you scramble backwards before stopping at the sight of Rex standing near the entrance to your tent.
Embarrassed, you stand up, brushing off your cream-coloured robes. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I could swear I’m not usually so jumpy, I don’t know what—” you look up and stop short.
Rex has removed his helmet.
His blond hair isn’t a surprise this time around, but close up, you’re struck by how tired he looks. There are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but his face is cast in exhausted shadows.
You wonder if a full night’s sleep is something he’s ever had, or if the training regiments on Kamino prepared him and his brothers for this kind of halfhearted sleep cycle. Curiously, you study him.
Rex’s eyes are golden-brown in the dying light of this shadowy planet. They’re the same shade as all the troopers in the immediate vicinity. And yet, as you stare into them, something in you stirs as your Force signature brushes against his—something you know you’re not supposed to feel.
“Er, General,” Rex repeats, jolting you from your faraway thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know—the scouts are detecting a clear journey from here on out. We have approximately four hours to kick back, as predicted.”
Hurriedly, you turn away and clear your throat awkwardly. “Very good, Captain,” you mumble. “Thank you. You’re—erm, free to go and rest.”
For a moment, Rex looks surprised, but he composes himself seconds later. “Thank you, General,” he says. “But I—”
“Not up for debate,” you interrupt, holding your hand up. Bemused, Rex blinks, so you shoot him a reassuring smile. “You said it yourself: the soldiers need rest. You’re a soldier, yes?”
Rex opens his mouth, probably to say something about him being a Captain, but you lower your hand to rest it on his shoulder. The kind gesture seems to quell him, so you continue. “Don’t exclude yourself in that. Rest well, Captain.”
When you turn and reenter your tent, you don’t catch the way Rex’s eyes linger on the closed flap for far longer than they should, heat prickling up his neck as the remnant of your touch burns itself through his pauldron.
“You too… General.”
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vulnonapix1234 · 1 year ago
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Caleb and his foundling
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Or the worst emotional roller-coaster that Depa Billabas Battalion was ever on.
This is for my "Star Wars fix it au", where order 66 doesn't happen, but Padme and Anakin still die (Rip Padme, you deserved better)
The first hours after General Obi-wan had given them the message were the worst.
The men who were made for them, fought side by side, died for them where a gun pointed at their chests.
All of them had chips in their brains that would strip them of their humanity their personhood, and their identity.
It was no wonder that the camp was in panic, no matter how much General Depa tried to calm her men down.
They were scared. Scared of hurting her and her Padawan. Scared of losing themselves.
Some of them tried to run, to be as far away from them as possible when those horrible chips activated.
Others tried to take their own life as long as they still were themselves.
It was a horrible time.
Then Caleb disappeared because the force was calling him, which made the troops only more panicked.
They were torn between wanting to go with him and being glad that he wasn't around. Both reasons were because they were worried for their little commanders' safety.
Then, a few hours later, everything was over.
Or at least, it seemed that way for all the men who only knew war.
The chancellor was the sith and created this war. He was killed by Mace and his close supporters were imprisoned for betraying the republic.
Master Anakin Skywalker fell and betrayed them. He was killed by Master Obi-Wan after murdering Senator Amidala.
The technicians in the Jedi temple created a way to block the signal of the chips, saving them from mind control till they could get it taken out.
So effectively, the war was over, they won and the clones lost most of their usefulness.
Even if they still had their personhood, they still weren't safe. Not when most of the republic saw them as nothing more than meat droids.
It was at this time that Caleb returned with a newborn and no one knew where the little guy could have possibly come from.
They were in the middle of a battlefield and the padawan couldn't have walked so far in the few hours he was gone.
The teen himself didn't know how long he walked or where he went.
He had trusted the force and the force brought him to the little baby and the corpses of his parents, who appeared to be reporters of some kind.
Cue panicked clones who just went through the 5 stages of grief and are now fearing for the wellbeing of a little thing that was barely bigger than their hands.
They just pushed away the fear of their post-war existence because none of them were trained in child care.
To be fair, the only one who knows how to carry and feed a baby is Depa, who is glad that her padawan came back without any injury.
Even if the baby (a possible grand padawan?) was a suprise.
A nice surprise that brought her men out of their fear clouded minds, but a suprise nonetheless.
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padawansuggest · 1 year ago
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Jedi and Mandalorians all get invited to pride parade on a planet and a bunch from each show up and now Palpys plans are all ruined cause they can’t get out of each others asses long enough for his plans to destroy them all to work he’s sweating bullets and now they keep showing up at each others planets to have sleepovers he’s dealing with so much he needs a vacation.
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brainrotparsecsaway · 4 months ago
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Friendly fire against @sharky66
I feel like I'm finally starting to really crack out of my last months art block and it's so nice :D
Might be devious and re attack some of the first attacks later this months as I feel like I have room to improve >:))
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sonic-fairyspell · 7 months ago
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I'm still hoping for Tales Of The Jedi season 2, with more Jedi and show they respectfully and in a good light. I really thought we'd be getting this sooner.
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imfromthemiddlekingdom · 1 year ago
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If I had the time I would go through video and debunk all of the jabs the OP unsubtly digs at the Jedi masters.
Legit the first minuet in and he calls Ki-Adi-Mundi a psychopath. Like bro. I don’t think you armchair psychologists actually understand the words that passes through your mouths.
youtube
Looking at the comments I’m filled with rage ngl.
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There is no tapping into the dark side for the good of others. The dark side isn’t some quaint power boost that people can use Willy nilly and come back without consequences. It corrupts absolutely. There’s no such thing as “oh lemme just tap into this side of the force that corrupts absolutely to save people uwu” when it would usually become “oh shit I tapped into the dark side cuz I wanted to save people but it twisted my desires and in the end I ended up not only not saving the people I wanted to save, but also wrecked destruction onto other innocents.”
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Also congrats on grievously misunderstanding what Vaapad is OP. It’s a twist on Form VII the Ferocity form (aka forbidden Jedi kata since if the practitioner isn’t firmly in the light the passion channeled can and will corrupt absolutely). Mace Windu created this form as a way to channel his own personal darker emotions. It doesn’t control him as the original form VII does. Literally we have Sidious saying that Form VII is closer to a Sith Form than a Jedi Form since it can and will corrupt the practitioner. Mace Windu did not use the dark side when using Vaapad. There’s a reason that the other “co-creator” of Vaapad when he fell to the dark side and tried to use Vaapad to defeat Mace still failed. It’s because Vaapad is a firmly light side Form and using the dark side of the force when using the Form will mean you fundamentally fail At understanding the base of the form.
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Why can’t Star Wars fans understand that there is no “balance” between the light side of the force and the dark side? The light side is balance. The dark side is an abbreviation on the natural state of being. And comparing Emerald Lightning that Plo Koon uses to Sith lightning, a technique that is STATED, to be a twisted abomination of five usage, is disingenuous and a bad faith reading of the comics.
I could screenshot every comment on this video and write essays on how they’re wrong but I actually value my time and I really do not want to engage in media that I disagree with. Blah blah echo chamber, what of it? If people can be blinded by their own beliefs that grey Jedi exist I can also refuse to engage in it. I clicked on the video thinking it would be a nice meta explaining the different colours we see in KOTOR and the new Ashoka show but instead I get a very thinly veiled Jedi bashing video.
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aestariiwilderness · 3 months ago
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Vernestra & Padawan | Acolyte (Spoilers)
Okay apropos of nothing but I think Qimir/The Stranger's (wow, really, ominous name dude. not edgelord at all) backstory is most easily and hilariously explained by his being Vernestra's Padawan. I am about 98.9% certain Edgelord here just got really, really tired of being elaborately framed for the sake of the Jedi Order. :D I mean, this does seem to be Vernestra's go-to/only move. For example: Tuesday. Someone stole a cookie. It reflects badly on the Jedi Order. Vernestra's eyes slide sideways to the nearest scruffy-looking padawan. "Qimir..." Wednesday. A senator tripped on his own cloak. This reflects badly on the Jedi Order. Vernestra's eyes slide sideways. Qimir, who is still out of breath from being hunted down by Jedi hounds last night and only narrowly proved his innocence by not owning any cloaks at all, does not move away fast enough. "Qimir..." Saturday. There has been a minor case of tax fraud (it was Vernestra). This reflects badly on the Jedi Order and will eventually lead to the downfall of civilization (and also she will have to pay a fine). Vernestra's eyes slide sideways. Qimir also moves sideways, but not fast enough. "Qimir..." Monday. Qimir has taken an extended leave of absence in the medical bay after being grazed by the firing squad that a young Plo Koon managed to avert at the very last second by proving his innocence ("wait! Qimir is a dependent and does not pay taxes yet! He cannot have committed this fraud! It is... *clears throat, does not look at Vernestra holding the blaster* a mystery who has done so! May we direct your investigation to the nearest available Jedi corpse for leads? Thank you"). A Jedi has "accidentally" wiped out a family and kidnapped their force-sensitive child for the temple, for the sixth time this quarter. This could reflect badly on the Jedi Order. Vernestra's eyes slide sideways over the corpse of the Jedi Knight responsible -- and the child, whoops -- and over to the medbay window where she knows her padawan is in a mini-coma. "Qimir..." Sunday. A Jedi Knight is having a dalliance with a Night Sister (again) and was stupid enough to get photographed from behind at her apartment. If you disregard the blue skin and gills just visible at his wrists, it otherwise COULD be Qimir. Vernestra's eyes slide sideways. "Qimir..." Day: ?? Qimir is being hunted down by Jedi Shadows, for reasons he isn't clear on anymore. It is the fourth time this week; they interrupted him during meditation. His master has just messaged him to ask if he would mind being "temporarily" excommunicated and court-martialed by the Senate, "for the good of the Order". She does not specify why or what his extraction plan would be, only that it "probably won't hurt (for long)". Day 1 as a Sith: Qimir takes a long, long nap in a cave far, far away from people. It's the best night's rest he's had since the creche. He leaves Vernestra's pings tearfully demanding why he could have done such a thing to her on "read". Day 264 as a Sith: Annnnnnnd she's back. Vernestra's eyes slide sideways over Master Sol's corpse. Qimir has, per usual, done absolutely nothing here besides stand around and look pretty, but he's wise to her tells now and slides sideways faster. Now, if he can only get Osha out of here...
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roseaesynstylae · 21 days ago
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The only thing I’ve found about Star Wars YouTube that doesn’t give me a headache is that there seem to be some videos with some obscure/out there lore that might be interesting. Whether or not they’ll lessen my constant irritation over all the anti-Jedi bullshit remains to be seen.
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