#jedi survivor has one job

[radiosummons]

It's 12 or 11 some minutes past midnight and my brain is absolutely mush from studying for this stupid licensing exam.

And the only thing I got left in my fucking brain is that one image of Cal with his poncho hood up:

It makes me wish that the rest of the collectable ponchos in game also had hoods. Or that one of Cal's idle animations could have been flipping his hood on or off. Or like .. literally anything with the hood, idk.

I just think he looks fucking adorable, okay?

Update: Okay, so have more poncho hood Cal Kestis (cause I still can't get enough of it-I have a problem, okay?)

I don't why but I just fuck with him having a poncho hood PFFFTTT

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[luna-writes-stuff]

Promises, Ahsoka Tano

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Reunion fic, resolved angst.

Word count: 3291

Tw: This is inaccurate because the sapphics would never be so oblivious and patient. So much pining and heartbreak. Slow burn but make it one fic. Mentions/descriptions of injuries, battle and the aftermath of a war. Probably inaccurate timelines even though I’ve been a Star Wars fan for over a decade. All these series are messing with me.

Summary: You and Ahsoka knew each other since you were both younglings and traveled with each other for a long time after order 66. But when something happens one night, you part suddenly. Now, a small amount of years later, she comes to seek you out.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Two hearts that shouldn't talk to each other become close In a town much like a prison cell.”

When one thinks about the aftermath of war, they’ll often recount the lives lost. Who won and who lost, and what was won and what was lost? How will the new society function? One thing that often gets forgotten are the survivors, more specifically those who cannot partake in whatever role the world has to offer them yet.

After the Empire was destroyed, thousands of children lost their families, lost their reputation- lost everything, but they weren’t old enough to help restore anything. They were left behind, forced to pick up their broken pieces together.

With the old rebellion, you had established a camp on Coruscant, giving shelter to those who had lost everything. You gave them a roof, food and schooling. Something to help them when they were old enough to go out on their own.

Coruscant had been the centre planet of the Empire, and there were many out there who believed everyone kept alive there were Empire sympathisers, when in fact the opposite was true.

“People speak our names on the street in hushed tones. Oh, the stories they'd tell if anyone would listen. If anyone would listen.”

The camp had been built in the old Jedi temple, where none really dared to enter again. It offered enough space and enough freedom for the children, regardless of the bad memories it might have brought you. Though the emperor had turned the temple into his own palace, there were hidden places still intact. You would come there often to simply sit and think.

You hadn’t even been a full adult when order 66 was issued, still serving as a padawan under your Jedi master. After the fall, you had left everything you had learned there - in the desolate Jedi temple where you had once swore to keep the peace and maintain the balance of the force.

Every time you sat there, you recounted your action, your memories. Everyone you knew and everything you had learned. Your saber had been long buried. Your aid in the rebellion laid within the medics, helping those who had already fallen. It was a good alternative for you. You saved lives of those already deemed dead, and helped the rebellion remain strong. That had been your strength. And once peace was restored, you knew your job was far from over yet. There were still many out there who needed your help.

“You come from a town where people don't bother saying "Hello" Unless somebody's born or dies.”

It had been ten weeks since you set up camp here, and the bond between you, those you worked with, and the children had grown incredibly strong over time. Regardless of the number of people in the temple, you knew all their names and got along with all of them. When you weren’t teaching the children, you occupied yourself in the med bay, though most injuries now extended to scraped knees and bruised skin. In your free hours, you’d run outside with the children, even offering some a handful of defence classes to keep their guard up.

At the end of the day, you’d always find yourself back in that small hall that had remained untouched by the empire. The walls still their marbled gold with white floors, though they were long from polished and shining now.

A month ago a young boy had been practising with a stick, claiming he wanted to one day wield a lightsaber. You knew he had been force-sensitive, but you were reluctant to teach him. Sure, you kept up with your abilities from time to time, but you hadn’t held a saber in years. You couldn’t teach him what you knew, because you simply knew too little. But he was adamant - and surprisingly skilled as well. Thus, you decided to practise your wielding skills again. But now, with a steel pole, roughly the size of a regular blade. It was heavier than usual, but it would work for you.

“And I come from a place where they drag your hopes through the mud. Because their own dreams are all dying.”

You had been practising for weeks, but it was hard when there was no teacher. You were struggling with your footwork when you were suddenly highly aware that you were being watched. You spun around gently, suspecting a child had followed you here, but you were proved the opposite when a familiar voice sounded: “Your footwork is sloppy.”

Turning around the corner, you were faced with a figure that caused your breath to simply remain stuck in your throat for a second.

“Ahsoka,” you breathed, dropping the pile immediately before running up to her, wrapping her in a hug. She was keen to return the gesture, a happy chuckle leaving her as her arms wrapped around your body. “Maker, it’s been so long.”

When you parted, she looked at you with a smile. She had aged, but so had you. She looked more mature, yet that childlike glint was still so visible in her eyes. She looked good.

“And when we walk down the street The wind sings our names in rebel songs.”

“I’ve heard of what you’ve done,” she hummed. “You did good.” You sighed at her words, somewhat grateful for her words, even though you didn’t need them. In your head, you were just happy she was standing in front of you, fully alive. You hadn’t heard from her since the two of you parted, and the silence had been killing you every single day.

“I was worried you had been lost in the war.” You voiced aloud, a remark that caused her smile to broaden just a little bit. “I’m fine,” She assured, nodding her head slightly. “You look good, too.”

Though the words brought just a little heat to your cheeks, you tried to shake it off, teasing her as you twirled your hair. “No grey hairs yet?” You asked rhetorically. “You’d think they’d begun to grow now, considering the stress these children bring me.” Ahsoka laughed at that, crossing her arms before gesturing towards the door she had just came from.

“It’s an admirable thing, taking care of those who are forgotten.” She mused, her face falling slightly. She knew how difficult it had been for children after the war. “Yes, well…” you trailed off. “We used to be a part of them.”

“The sounds of the night should make us anxious. But it's much too late when the fear is gone.”

Silence struck the pair of you as your words laid heavy on your mind. After order 66, you and Ahsoka had been alone, still children, though older. Everything had relied on those around you, but with the gone, the universe had seemed bigger than ever. Where you and Ahsoka still had each other, these children didn’t have anyone. You weren’t going to let them wallow in their own misery, and you - luckily - hadn’t been the only one who refused to let that happen.

“Don’t misunderstand,” you began, breaking the silence. “I am happy you are here, but why?” The togruta seemed to think about that for a short second, though the answer came quickly: “I came here to seek you out.”

Deep dread immediately settled into your system. Usually, when someone would come along, claiming to ‘seek you out’, something had been terribly wrong, or your help was needed for something of grave importance. You couldn’t help but feel slightly panicked at the revelation: “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she quickly denied, as if sensing your stress. “No; I feared there might be, but there isn’t.” The small amount of new adenine in your body slowly died down, confusion now settling in: “What do you mean?”

“I will meet you in the Next Life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you.”

“A few rotations before the falling of the empire, I lost contact with the rebellion.” Ahsoka confessed, rubbing her upper arm in discomfort. “I didn’t know if you were safe.”

Part of you was flattered - happy that she was checking up on you. Even after you went your separate ways, she still wanted to make sure you were safe. However, you never realised she had been doing this, which left part of you even more confused: “You checked on me?” She merely shrugged at your words, even though her facial expression showed slight sympathy. “We went different paths, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care.”

A heavy sigh came from you, trying to repress the memory of how you two left. That was something you didn’t wish to discuss. But the disappointment was still very clear in your words: “You could have called me.” You mumbled, your voice hurt, but not accusing.

Ahsoka formed her lips in a thin line at your words, lost sentiment lingering on them. “I was being hunted,” she defended with a gently voice. “I didn’t want to risk dragging you down with me.”

“I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you. I promise, I promise.”

When you didn’t respond to it, other than the empathic smile on your lips, she continued: “I heard about this place only days ago. Figured it was worth a look.”

You didn’t have it in you to get mad at her. You had been concerned about her for months now - arguing be damned. It was pointless anyway. If there was anything you had been feeling, it was relief. Anger would be forced, and not only did you refuse to show it as an obvious consequence of your training, it simply wasn’t worth the energy now.

“Well, I am glad you were worried about me.” You confessed. “I’ve been worried about you too. Only, I had no way of checking up on you.” She hissed slightly at the words, humour laced within her tone: “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s okay,” you deny, even though the words kind of hurt. “I understand.” Considering the way we split.

You didn’t say those last words. They were just painful reminders in your head. “I’m just glad you’re still alive.” “Yes…” Ahsoka lightly trailed off, somehow knowing the words that had been going on in your mind. You didn’t linger on it.

“Will you stay here? At least for the night?” The sun had already begun to set, and dinner had long been served. In truth, you were ready to turn to bed after your ‘training’.

She seemed to hesitate to answer, but gave in after seeing your pleading face, another gentle smile tugging on her lips.

“For the night.”

“There's so many fighting to get past the Pearly Gates, But nobody ever wants to die or get saved.”

The last time you saw her must have been a little over a year ago. Since order 66, you had been travelling together, taking comfort in the mere company of each other. Growing up in the Jedi temple and groaning together had strengthened your bond significantly, but it was after the empire had risen that either of you began to realise that there might have been more than friendship there.

None of you ever dared to act on it, still convinced of the Jedi ways. It took years for that to fade, and even after that, the reluctance had been clear between the both of you. It didn’t help that neither of you dared to show it. It made the impression of unrequited feelings much stronger than they needed to be.

The last time you saw her was after you had gotten ambushed by a group of bounty hunters. Ahsoka would have usually handled them themselves, after you had gotten around with the blaster and medical supplies, but they had been too great in number. In the end, you had them cornered, and managed to get away, but this was not without a scratch.

“Their intentions aren't that good and I can smell the asphalt. That's their personal road to Hell being paved.”

“Next time I tell you to go left, you go left.” You scolded, kneeling beside the bench Ahsoka had been laying on. You had returned to your makeshift camp shortly after the attack, tending to Ahsoka’s injuries before you’d relocate. The smell of burning flesh penetrated the small tent, and the angry red mark on her side seemed to scream for attention.

“They would have killed you if it wasn’t for me.” She hissed through her teeth as you began to clean the wound, doing your best to remain gentle. “Yes,” you argued. “But now I am completely fine and you have a blaster wound in your side. The third one since we left Tattooine, might I add.”

Even though her side had been burning, the togruta still seemed to choke out a laugh, grinning at you in assurance. “That was the point.” When you didn’t return her smile, she looked at you more careful, her voice immediately taking a more concerned tone: “You’re fine, right?” “Yes.” You sighed, stopping the cleaning to look at her face. You pointed at her accusingly. “But I’m still mad at you.”

She nodded: “I deserve that.”

“And when we walk down the street The wind sings our names in rebel songs. And it's much too late when the fear is gone.”

Something within you sparked at her words, but you pushed the feeling down. You knew better than to make the best of this. If she really meant anything with it, she would have acted on it by now.

Thus, you turned back to your work, replacing the cleaning supplies with a bacta patch, gently tearing the plaster layer off of the bandage. “You make my stress levels fly out of the roof.” You muttered, not noticing the way Ahsoka’s expression softened as she read the worry on your face. She ignored the tug on her heartstrings.

“Sounds like me.” She merely hummed, squeezing her lips together as you applied the bacta patch. You rested your arms on the cot, checking for any more injuries on her body. When you found none, you shifted lightly to level with her face.

“Just… be careful next time?” You spoke, though it sounded more like a question. “And maybe listen to me for once?”

“I will meet you in the Next life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologised genuinely. You should have left it at that. In hindsight you never should have said anything. But something in her eyes made you want to. There was something vulnerable there and you would have been blind if you hadn’t seen it.

“Ahsoka,” you sighed. “We have lost so many things already. Don’t make me lose you too.”

She had noticed it too, that same softness. Not in her eyes, but in yours. Doubt clouded her mind. If there was a time, it was now. You were so close, so genuine, so beautiful. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as she was praying to everything out there that you hadn’t heard it. But Anakin did everything for love, and it ended him up some place she never wanted to go. She had to push it down.

“You won’t,” she joked, but went on afterwards in a more serious tone. “I’ll be more careful.”

That was all you needed to hear. You wanted to hear more - of course. But the change in her features was so apparent. She was shutting you out again. Each time you came close, this would happen. You had learned to make peace with it.

“Thank you.”

“I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you. I promise, I promise.”

“But I might fall sometimes, you know?” She teased. “So, you still gotta patch me up.”

And just like that, that look was back. As if it had never left. It seemed more genuine now, more meaningful. You hated how hesitant you were. Maybe if you hadn’t been, you would have actually gotten somewhere. But when she shifted slightly, you could have sworn she did that just to get closer to you.

And when you leaned in, she made no effort to lean back. In fact, she seemed to come even closer. Heat was flushing towards your face as your stomach suddenly felt very light. If you wouldn’t now, when would you?

Your hand inched closer to her as your lips finally connected. It was hesitant, light - almost not there if you hadn’t seen it. But when your hand found her shoulder, she reached to clutch to it, before returning your kiss with a little more pressure, assuring you that this hadn’t been a dream. The moment you tried to turn your hand to intertwine it with hers, she suddenly pulled back, sitting up as she swallowed harshly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have.” Ahsoka shook her head, confliction swirling through her mind. “Why did you do that?” “I’m sorry.” You apologised again, cursing yourself for the wrong social cue. “Forget it happened. Impulsive action.”

You didn’t notice the way her face fell upon those words, nor the way her lip trembled lightly. You just continued to rant: “Adrenaline rush. Makes people do crazy things they usually wouldn’t do.” And that was what broke her. Of course; It makes you do crazy things you wouldn’t usually do. Why would you?

She got up from the cot, making her way towards the exit of the tent. “Ahsoka?” You called after her. “I need to get some air.” She managed to get out. “Yeah, no, of course.” You stuttered, now crestfallen on the floor as you watched her leave. “I’ll- uh, I’ll be right here.”

That was the last time you had seen her. You had heard her take off, leaving you at your camp with just a speeder to get you to the nearest village. You lost all contact afterwards.

“I will meet you in the Next Life, I promise you. Where we can be together, I promise you. I will wait till then in Heaven, I promise you.”

The walk to her room seemed somewhat comfortable, even though the memories now came flashing back more evident than ever. You wanted to get rid of them. She seemed fine now - surely it wasn’t worth getting worked up about.

“I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.” You spoke as you opened her door. She seemed to have notice the sudden shift while the two of you were walking, and turned to face you as she stood in her door opening: “I’m sorry if I make you nervous.” “No, it’s fine,” You shook off. “It’s been some time.”

She just nodded at that, shooting a quick glance in the room. “Thank you.” She said as she looked back at you. “For allowing me to stay here.” “Of course.” You smiled. “You don’t need to ask.”

When she didn’t respond, you turned slightly, pointing towards a door at the left end of the hall. “If there is anything, and I mean anything, that door is mine.” Then, you turned to leave, offering her a small wave. “Goodnight, Ahsoka.” “I am sorry I left.” She interrupted before you could set a step. “I shouldn’t have.”

One look was cast over your shoulder, though it wasn’t in sadness or frustration; it was a strange combination of remorse and peace: “You don’t need to justify your actions. Not to me.” “You deserve to know why.” She countered, seemingly adamant on making her point.

“Tell me about it tomorrow.” You smiled, an offer she seemed to be okay with. And with that, you continued your path.

“Goodnight, Ahsoka.”

“Goodnight.”

“I promise, I promise.”

[drafthorsemath]

Crosshair’s Redemption

I posted this here in response to an earlier post, but also thought this should just live on its own on my blog, so apologies if you’ve seen it twice. Essentially, here are some thoughts about whether Crosshair should be held accountable for his actions with the Empire. Spoilers for The Bad Batch Season 2.

I’ll start by saying that Crosshair is already holding himself accountable, even if he’s not calling it that. When people say they want redemption for Crosshair, often, from what I’ve seen, they either implicitly or explicitly want him specifically to suffer in some way and many don’t seem to realize that he is already suffering.  They seem to think he deserves that suffering and then some.  In some cases, they flat out want him dead and think that is the only way for him to “pay” and be redeemed.  I won’t even pretend I’m not projecting when I say that as a cult survivor, that hurts me to my core because I relate to him so much and I suppose I’m at the point in all this when I can talk more about what it’s like to be in a cult and why people do what they do.  (If you want to hear what it’s like growing up in a doomsday cult, I’ve been interviewed for two podcasts and can direct you there and my DMs are open.)

No, I didn’t murder anyone, so you might think Crosshair has done worse than I have.  I’m not here to argue about that, but in some ways I think helping to destroy someone’s life or sense of self without killing them can be just as bad, no? I definitely hurt people, even if I didn’t kill them. I hurt them deeply, just as I was hurt, but is that an excuse? No. But also, I was under the influence of many layers of authority in my cult.  Did they put a gun to my head and “make” me do hurtful things? No, but they also constructed the situation so that it very much felt like life or death.  I did what I had to do to survive.  Does that mean I’m not accountable? Also no.  Amazingly, it’s complicated.  I’ve certainly paid for my time in the cult even though I was born into it.  No one else showed up and passed down a punishment, but figuring out how to grieve, make right, help others, and build a life while thoroughly traumatized was pretty damn punishing.

How is my survival in a cult any different than Crosshair trying to survive? Different than Crosshair telling Hunter there is a place for all of them in the Empire? Any different than Crosshair saying he made his choice and the clones that matter will be just fine?  Crosshair may try to play it cool and seem unaffected, but this man is doing what he feels he needs to do in order to survive in circumstances that are not of his choosing.

I think by The Outpost it becomes very clear that Crosshair is changing, even though we see glimpses earlier.  He was literally pushed to the point where he thought his life would end for killing Nolan.  You can argue that he didn’t know for sure if his life would be over, but when he killed that asshole, he could have been shot where he was and he knew it.  He knew by that point that the Empire did not care about him at all and he still pulled the trigger.

Crosshair started holding himself accountable the moment he started making different decisions.  The moment he went from playing along to survive to actively going against the Empire was when he started holding himself accountable.

We should also talk about the chip that was (is?) in his head.  He was very much being controlled at least at the beginning of season 1.  We know that the clones acted the way they did during Order 66 because of the chips.  Should he still be held responsible for what he did under the influence of the chip?  Then what about Cody and Bly and Wolffe and every other clone who killed or tried to kill the Jedi?  Like where do we draw the line?  Is it even our job to draw the line?  Is it the job of the Rebellion to draw the line? I don’t think it is.  I think it’s fine for the Rebellion to say, “if you don’t see what you did as a problem, then we don’t want to work with you,” but I don’t think they should get a firing squad or pass down a punishment.  In Rebels, did the Rebellion not want to work with Rex, Gregor, or Wolffe? Kanan had feelings about it, sure, but ultimately no one made them atone for being clones under the influence of a chip.

It’s always interesting to me that people talk about Crosshair atoning, but not Vader or Sidious or Kylo Ren or any number of lower level cult leaders like Rampart.  Maybe it’s because we already know what will happen to Vader, Kylo, and Sidious.  Maybe it’s because they die and we figure that has to cover all their transgressions, but we don’t know how Crosshair’s story will end and people want to make sure there’s some “justice.”

Throughout season 2, although there’s not a ton of Crosshair shown, we see he’s really miserable. He’s not sleeping, he’s not eating, he was left on the platform for 32 rotations.  He looks like hell and he feels like hell.  He is so expressive and it’s clear he’s miserable by the look on his face.  Isn’t he already paying for his bounded choice? Being in a cult is already awful, it’s really traumatizing, but people seem to love to pile on more guilt and then blame cult members like if they just weren’t so stupid none of this would have happened.  Ultimately, the only people in cults who are irredeemable are the upper cult leaders.  Sidious does not care about anyone but himself. He can’t be redeemed.  Everyone else though?  There’s hope for them.  Don’t we want a better world where people can learn from their mistakes and help others?  Where growing and bettering oneself is an ongoing process that lasts a life time?  How many awful things need to happen to Crosshair before people will say “okay you ticked enough boxes, I forgive you now”? He is a complicated man, but he has empathy and he loves and cares for his family.  Again this doesn’t mean he gets off without paying for what he’s done, but also, he’s already paying for his choices by living in a version of hell.  Being in a cult is terrible and soul-crushing for everyone but the top cult leader.

I also would be remiss if I didn’t mention how Crosshair spent the end of season 2 strapped to a table, able to fight drugs in his system to get far enough to warn his siblings that the Empire is after Omega.  While the full message didn’t get out, he did his utmost to warn them.  He didn’t try to run for himself. He tried to save his family. If that isn’t Crosshair trying to do better and holding himself accountable then I don’t know what is.

Ultimately, I think when people want someone to hold Crosshair accountable, they are missing a part of his humanity and they assume he must want all that has happened.  It’s like they think someone must dish out justice because surely he doesn’t realize how badly he screwed up, but Crosshair knows he messed up and now he has to reckon with it.  Assigning the Rebellion or some person or group the job of holding him accountable only furthers the us versus them that cults instill into their members. It will only push him away further.  Do you want to know what happened between me and the people who felt I needed to be held accountable for my time in a cult (that I was born into, just like the clones)?  I never spoke to them again and I had one less person offering support as I tried to build some semblance of a life.  The few threads of connection that I had were ultimately severed because they felt I hadn’t gone through enough.  

Let Crosshair go on this journey.  Let him try to do what is right, because he’s well on his way.  Let him grieve for all that has happened and all he’s done.  Because I promise, he’s grieving.  He’s lonely and guilting himself to his core.  It’s written all over his face.

[nocturnesmoon]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was until something unexpected crash landed into their lives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're Jedi?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[antianakin]

It's really interesting to think about an AU where Anakin survives ROTJ and this sticks Luke with the responsibility of being his caretaker/guardian in order to spare Anakin from being imprisoned or executed, and how this would impact Luke's ability to build a Jedi school.

Because there's still a few Jedi that might yet be alive by the end of ROTJ in some way or another. Quinlan, Cal, Ezra, all of whom have been personally victimized and hurt by Anakin and will never trust him again and probably never want to be near him again. Luke's going to have a hard time getting anybody to trust him with Force Sensitive children when doing so kind-of automatically has to go hand in hand with trusting Darth Vader with Force Sensitive children. There's literally an entire organization that we know about now that was explicitly there to help rescue and hide Force Sensitive children and their families from the Empire. It was a known thing that the Empire would hunt down and kill any and all Force Sensitive children, so I don't truly see any parents with a Force Sensitive child of their own being willing to give up their child to Luke when he's got a skulking monster of death and destruction hovering over his shoulder at all times.

It'd be interesting to have to see someone else rise up and build a different school, one without Luke's unfortunate hanger on, one Luke can't even GO TO because no one will accept Anakin Skywalker being allowed anywhere near Jedi or Force Sensitive children ever again. No survivor of Order 66 wants to come within a solar system of him if they can help it. I can't even see LEIA being that comfortable around Luke anymore when she has to deal with being around Darth Vader in order to do it.

Which puts Luke in such a hard position because protecting his father means losing all connection to other Jedi and Force Sensitive communities, it means never being able to build a school the way he may have thought he would. He's completely stuck: either he chooses to be a part of the Jedi communities and leaves Anakin to the consequences of his choices for the last 20 years even if that ends up being fatal, or he protects Anakin at the cost of having to spend his life alone until Anakin dies of old age. Which family is more important, which connection will he regret losing more in the long-term?

And it's so interesting to just think about Luke having to live with the consequences of choosing Anakin, of choosing to protect his father because no one else will. And he's not necessarily even being selfish about it, there might be other Jedi who can create a school, like Cal or Ezra or even Ahsoka or Quinlan, and create a community and safe haven for Force Sensitive children. So he's not going dark, he's not hurting other people for Anakin's sake, but this isn't the life Luke wanted. This isn't how Luke thought being a Jedi would be like. How does this impact his relationship with Anakin in the long run? Is he even able to truly build one? How often does he regret it and consider just... leaving Anakin for the New Republic to deal with however they see fit? How often does he have to beat back the resentment at his situation, the impossible position that being Anakin Skywalker's son has put him in? Because at the end of the day, he'll never abandon Anakin because he does truly love his father, but sometimes he really wishes he were the kind of person who could or would.

Luke wants to go out and help people in the galaxy the way a Jedi should, he wants to help Han and Leia build the New Republic, he wants to help the other Jedi rebuild the Order, but he CAN'T. Because the single job he now has is taking care of and watching over Anakin. That's it.

And whenever Anakin does die, however it ends up happening, Luke is sad of course, but a large part of him is also just relieved. It's like a weight's been lifted off of his shoulders, he's been freed from the shackles of his heritage. And he can finally become the Jedi he was always meant to be, he can finally join that family that he had so long been denied.

[snapscube]

How much is your personal enjoyment affected when streaming a game vs. playing a game on your own? because I truly wonder (as someone who plays games as a hobby) how playing a game as your job changes your perspective on video games as a whole.

Well, I still play games as a hobby! I just fucking love video games. Whether my enjoyment is hindered or heightened by streaming a game vs playing it on my own is completely up to the game itself and also whats going on in my life. Really not a one-size-fits-all kinda thing. Streaming Dragon Quest VIII has been an enriching and incredible experience and, though it's taking a long time to get through it, I'm always excited to come back to it. Streaming Alan Wake ended up kinda being a nightmare for me when I first tried it because the presentation of the game's story and dialogue directly clashed with my commentary style. Neither of these examples were sure bets and I actually kinda expected the opposite of both. It's really hard to predict how a game is gonna fit the format, which is why I try not to have too many hangups about dropping things when I have to. It can definitely get pretty daunting with new releases coming around though because the one thing that streaming really hinders about the overall gaming experience is when I'm actually allowed to play the games I want to. I can almost assure you if I had not started Jedi Survivor on stream I would have finished it by now and be well on my way to the platinum trophy, but on stream we're not even halfway through the game cause the schedule has just not allowed me to go any faster. For DQ8 that's actually been kind of a blessing because I'm literally restricted from binging the game like I did with DQ11 and getting burned out, so I've been pacing myself with it really well. But this summer a TON of games are about to drop in a row that I've all said I'm gonna stream so like, the scheduling aspect is a major consideration and potential stress point. But if the games themselves are good, they usually stay just as good if not better on stream.

[stealingpotatoes]

you know what time of the day it is!

good mornin its askposting yay!!!! feat: last 4 jedi au, jedi survivor, and fix it au!!

@just-prime LMAO THAT'D BE SO FUNNY i love hcs abt things the skywalkers can and can't do bc they're genetically part force. BUT THATS SO FUNNY EVERYONE DISCOVERING IT they thought it was bad finding out vader was his dad now they find out he's A QUARTER THE LEGIT FORCE??

@sirathurheit GOOD FOR HIM!!!! thank u for the info!!

aww thank u!! and said in that post yesterday!! its a custom version of sergey kolesov's eliptical 45 brush!!

@quynhorlose the problem is if it's an average imperial prison, they're literally all Ken

if it's a new republic prison they'd actually be a mix (luke is barbie) and if it was inquisitorius then good luck getting any of them to stay still for the picture

Rex definitely gets his job back but it's gonna be a bit shortlived bc no war! now they don't need most the clones!! and anakin and a group of jedi and senators are now going to smack anyone who says these guys don't get human rights

@frontierghost THAT'D BE SO FUNNY LMAOOOO just dropping that on poor soka

@gettingcomfyinyourwalls i'm fairly sure you don't get to choose the colour (unless you're playing the Jedi games) and you can only get red if you corrupt the kyber ): but it'd be really funny if luke got his green and kept trying to find out how to change it to blue like his old one

------ MILD JEDI SURVIVOR SPOILS BELOW !!!

@imperial-spy imp-- ahh!! im suspicious of your username now!! ok being fr I AM LOVING IT SO MUCH!!!! the only spoiler i knew was that merrical kiss and i THINK get together. oh yeah and i found out through several asks n stuff that cal got a gun and i have now both seen the merrical kiss AND gotten cal's gun (which is so useful. i'm a gunsaber truther now)!!

i'm about 13 hours in now!!! just finished jedha part 2 and got merrin back (i hope we kiss again. tho if she wants to share a bed, all cal has is a shitty cot) excited to see what happens next!!!!!! and praying nothing too traumatic happens to my boy bc if anyone on the mantis dies or even gets hurt too bad i'm going fucking darkside

[lavandula-ipsum]

The sweet waters of Plegethon

Asphodels ch. 2/2

Tags: dark!Luke x Fem!Reader, force sensitive reader, reader is injured, porn with plot, angst, smut. Like, this is the smut bomb of the series.

Summary: Waiting to be torn apart once again, two lovers find each other under the stars.

Asphodels is a sequel to Pomegranate, a short smut series that has kinda ended up growing a plot. I do think you can enjoy this part without the previous one, since you can infer enough of their dynamic from context if you're just here for the smutty fun. Feel free to check the previous chapters if you feel like it!

Asphodels pt. 1

It was a hard job convincing the rebel survivors that all they needed to do to avoid the mortal threat of the stormtroopers closing in around them was to take refuge in the caves and just wait for them to just leave. Huddled in the tunnels, the children of the Rebellion look up and fear that the promise won’t save them. There is a twinkle of understanding in (Y/N)’s new ally, old Imoviah, when she assures him they will be safe for now.

As soon as it mlike the danger has passed them by, the rebel captain hurries back to the cell where her prisoner awaits. Shame nails her eyes to the floor at first, handing him the comlink as she swallows thickly. She’s forgotten herself again, and now she has to deal with having to manage problems so abysmally different in nature she’d need to split herself in two for it. But she needs to suck it up and be a big girl today. Politics must come first.

After Luke dials in the code, he puts the device back on her palm, his hand lingering for a bit. At least he doesn’t seem resentful for leaving him like she did, bothered and denied. She mentally hushes herself, she needs to focus

“It will be alright, I swear,” he assures. The rebel tries to paint her expression with all of her resolve and hopes the Sith lord can’t choke her through this distance.

Suddenly, the little communicator emits the ambience buzz that indicates there’s someone listening on the other side. Faintly, the dreaded sound of a mechanic breathing echoes.

“Excuse me if I don’t introduce myself properly, lord Vader. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I am well aware of who you are. And you will tell me, right now, how you obtained that communicator as well as this code.”

Her blood freezes at the idea that he already knows her. They have never met face to face, apart from a couple of occasions when her ship narrowly avoided capture by his TIE fighters while he looked down on the hunt from the Executor. Even then, his cold ghost managed to freeze the Force around her like a nasty omen. There was also the quick encounter at Bespin, though there wasn’t much time for pleasantries back then. No, he either has gathered intel about her, for whatever chilling reason, or Luke has been talking about her. She suddenly feels out of her own body and shudders at the ridiculous concept of Vader giving ear to the fallen Jedi’s story about a girl he almost came to love.

“That’s the interesting part, my lord. You see, right now I have in my power a certain prized someone you might be interested in getting back.”

Luke rolls his eyes at her, which lightens her heart a little bit. It almost makes her enjoy getting threats in exchange.

“You might think you scored some kind of goal with this, but no matter what you do, even if my troops have been ordered to spare your cowardly rats in hiding for now, the Rebellion is doomed.”

“I’ll keep my prisoner for myself then. Maybe I’ll find some better use for him before we’re all dead at your feet, my lord.”

“Your tone is starting to become cumbersome, girl.” He doesn’t need to raise his filtered voice for her to feel a dreadful cold creeping up the back of her neck. “I demand proof that he is unharmed.”

Luke steps forward, his eyes fixed on the girl at all times, reassuring that she’s navigating this delicate situation successfully but a little fearful it could all fall down with just a wrong word. “I’m here, father. Please, listen to her.”

Silence. For a few moments, only a faint metallic breathing comes out of the comlink. (Y/N) realizes now she’s been squeezing Luke’s hand too hard. She barely dares to even breathe until lord Vader speaks again.

“Alright, go on. And do not test my patience any further, rebel. Consider yourself greatly privileged to be having this conversation.”

(Y/N) is not aware of the dark lord having any tolerance whatsoever so, with a slight triumphant smirk on her lips, she continues. “These are my demands, Lord Vader.”

****

After long hours of packing and preparation to evacuate the refuge under the sanctuary, night has fallen once again over the forest. Right now, somewhere, the survivors must be leaving the surface of Jolah on a brand new Imperial transport. Even though they’ve taken all the precautions available to them to prevent being followed, (Y/N) still fears it might not be enough. However, the only thing she can do now is let them go and trust that her plan will work.

The silence is broken by the beeping in her hands right before Imoviah’s voice comes out of her comlink

“The starbird has taken flight. Good work.”

She sighs. “Thank you, friend. Take care. I hope our paths will meet again soon.”

“Likewise. May the Force be with you, girl.”

(Y/N) tries to answer it back, but the woshrds can’t find their way out before the communication is cut. So all she can do is reduced to just sitting there, her glossy eyes blurring the stars above her, as her fingers tear apart one of the wild flowers growing through the crevices of the stone table they’re sitting on.

“You’ve done it, they’re safe”

At her side sits her only source of warmth in this cold night. It’s Luke’s arm against hers that keeps her feet on the ground now that she feels like she’s inhabiting a stranger’s corpse. Perhaps the sensation has been accompanying her for a while. It’s by his side that she’s finally able to see the tension and constant nausea that’s taken hold of her body the last few hours.

His stun cuffs suddenly come undone and fall to the floor. Luke gives her a confused grin, but she looks away. She trusts him enough to free him. No, it’s way more than that, dangerously so. (Y/N) yearns to give him anything he might ask for. However, the question of why she’s waited this long to do it keeps her tongue tied in a knot.

The rebel also hands him back his lightsaber. The corrupted inner sizzling of the agonizing kyber crystal has been making her sick with the memories of how much time and effort he put into building it, how she clapped and laughed the first time she got to see the emerald blade. I'm proud of you, she had said after kissing his cheek.

And as revolting as its aura echoes in the Force, she feels a little colder after it's no longer in her hands. A cloud lifts in her brain too. It will be a while before Vader’s shuttle appears, a few hours at least. Hours she doesn’t feel like using on running away.

If only there was something that could keep him by her side.

“Your sister still believes in you, you know?”

“She does?” Luke seems surprised at first, but then he shakes his head. “That is too far gone.”

She’s too tired to fight about this again, so she just sighs and sinks down a little.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get away?” he says.

“I was thinking of stealing your fighter, actually.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t complain further. “I guess that’s fair.”

(Y/N) groans and rubs her forehead on his shoulder. It takes him by surprise, but it prompts him to relax a little and open up his cloak so she can take refuge under it. But she can’t allow herself to rest while she still has homework left to do.

“You can have your questions now.”

A furrow appears on his brow, displeased by her transactional attitude. However, curiosity ends up being more powerful. “Is Leia being trained?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

“You don’t know her.” (Y/N) glares at him before standing up to pace around with the help of her walking stick, anxious. Even though she feels the blunt pull of the stitches on her leg, the movement helps clear her head. This is a subject she’s not willing to get into, and every word that slips out could be fatal to someone else. Thankfully, Luke seems willing to drop the issue.

“Where is your lightsaber?”

“I gave it to her.” However, he doesn’t seem satisfied with this vague answer. She thinks of a lie, something like she needed it but, again, Luke is not someone she can lie to. And she’s getting tired of trying to do it. “I did it because I was donafraid of ending up having to fight you.”

“So you’ve given up.”

“I thought you’d be happier about it.”

“I’m not. There’s the chance you’ll see yourself in a bad situation without a way to protect yourself.” His impatient tone also reveals he’s still hurt about what she said earlier, when they fought in the cell. “I never intended to make you weaker.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to either surrender or die if I find myself in a pickle.”

It would be easier to embrace either of those decisions if she took it beforehand, wouldn’t it?

The night is cold and the dark hides them, which is known to work the magic to conjure the words that seem impossible at any other time. The young man in black leaves the stone table to go after her, but stops a couple of steps away. His hand twitches at his side.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?”

(Y/N) thought these questions were going to be utilitarian in nature, so she’s about to complain about it for a second. However, she can just sigh at her lack of an answer. The reason why she freaked out when he touched her earlier is a mystery to her too. She liked it when he caged her between his bound hands and the wall to kiss her. It was sudden and desperate, with a passionate sense of urgency that could’ve been mistaken for roughness if she didn’t know him as well as she does. No, this fear has bloomed from a seed planted way before, that very first night they shared after learning of his betrayal. She steps closer to squeeze his hand, relieved by him reciprocating the gesture.

“I don’t. It’s just- Kark, I’m not sure I can explain it. ”

“Will you try for me?” he asks, need glimmering in his eyes.

“I think it started… the last time we were together. I was so confused. I lost myself and acted like a brat. I gave in to the idea that the pleasure would erase the pain, but then I felt so guilty. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about it. I needed you too.”

“That’s why I tried to regain control. I wanted to give you everything, I really did.” She swallows a sob. “But I couldn’t picture myself surviving, or at least the part of me that matters, if I didn’t run away. So I did. And now I’m not even sure if it’s still alive.”

Luke’s fingertips graze the back of her hand on the walking stick, and a shy flutter reaches her through the Force as he gently takes her hand, slowly enough to watch in her expression and feel in her signature that he’s not overstepping, and presses his lips on her knuckles, “I don’t blame you.”

“I didn’t know I was going to react like that earlier. I was so focused on the little time we had I didn’t realize how scared I was.”

“Of me?”

“No, no. Of myself. I was terrified of losing control.” (Y/N) nuzzles his shoulder, every word a struggle. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess. I don't mean to mislead you. Isn't it messed up that I behave like this when I'm supposed to fight you?”

The finger tracing down her cheek melts her worries away until they’re just a bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth. “I’ll gladly take all you're willing to give.”

Grabbing his shirt collar, she gently brings him closer till their lips meet. The kiss is sweet and light, slow as if they had all the time in the world. Clean.

“Such a lovely mess,” he whispers against her mouth. She groans, sensing yet another worry fluttering around his aura.

“How many more questions do you have?”

“Only one. But it’s a bit selfish.”

“I promised I would answer. Shoot.”

“Do you still love me?”

Luke retreats back a little to look at her better, his gloved hand still under her chin. The frail hope trembling behind his eyes breaks her heart a little.

“I do. I love you. But I still hate you too.”

The wind lightly tousles his hair as a watery chuckle escapes his throat. He’s relieved. “I know. Don’t worry. Don’t let it hurt you any more than it needs to.”

This time it’s him who leans down to kiss her, holding her face between his palms as he gently parts her lips. Their invisible bond ripples with a wave of gratitude. Suddenly, she feels a little embarrassed about earlier, when she went straight to shove her hand down his pants.

“Your eyes are wandering, love.”

“I was feeling a bit guilty about something else, that’s all.” As (Y/N) looks down, finding by the tension on his pants that affairs are more or less where she left them. “I’m sorry I had to leave you like that earlier. I thought you would have, I don’t know, done something about it by now.”

His eyelashes flicker as he grows excited and flustered in equal measure with the understanding of what she’s referring to. “I haven’t.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

He nods, his fingers threading her hair, exploring her features in the search for a signal that she’s not out of his grasp yet. “Are you ready to let go a little? Only as much as you want to.”

The rebel delves in for another kiss, a tiny spark catching fire as her hands travel down his torso with a hungry caress. However, before they can reach his belt buckle, he stops her, a sweet smirk across his face. Without ever letting go of her hand, he takes her back to the carved table, where he sits in a purposely open position. However, doubt briefly returns to him just as she curls up in between his legs.

“I told you to take everything the other time, didn’t I?”

“Do you really think this is the place?” he teases, his hands all over her, carefully exploring every little limit each of the curves of her body represents before lovingly conquering the next one.

“What? Are you missing the cell? Or was it the stun cuffs that did the trick for you?”

Luke shakes his head, muffling a chuckle with a kiss under her ear, “I just wished I could give you something better than this rock.”

The rebel briefly thinks of the time she spent in his quarters, of the gigantic bed with silly silk sheets and at least a dozen fluffy pillows to comfortably plop herself on. Yeah, their first time could have been quite comfortable there, in theory. More than on rock and moss, under the cold stars. On the other hand, she doesn’t miss the constant buzz of the imperial cruiser, the many tiny signatures of officers and stormtroopers running around. No, this place feels far more peaceful. It lacks the luxury, but also all those other reminders that she’s already lost him.

Impatient to give herself fully this time, she guides his hands up her waist. Luke barely dares to brush the curve of her breast until she coaxes him to discover the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of her tunic. Watching over her shoulder, burning breath on her skin, his thumbs swivel over them, twisting them subtly between his thumb and middle finger while the index rubs the tip raw until little whines start escaping her throat.

Under her, his hardness grinds against her ass as she unconsciously swivels, anticipating the release of all the pent up heat cruelly repressed all day. The fire has spread to his hands, that turn her around so she faces him, impatiently undoing the laces closing off her dress. His hungry mouth leaves a tingly path of kisses along her collarbone in its way down to her tits, tender and sensitive under the unabashed wet sounds of his suckling. She cries out with that first frenzied attack, making him look up from where he’s devoted to the task of making her lose her mind. As an apology, his tongue becomes gentler, but the girl grabs the back of his hair and brings him closer again, begging for more. After a moaned hum, Luke sucks more intensely again, leaving her weaker by the second and dependent on the support of his arms around her waist.

Unable to bear the insufficient friction any longer, Luke lays her down, spreading his cloak over the carvings to protect her from the cold stone. (Y/N) briefly ponders what could the intended use of this altar have been, the sacred knowledge she should be diligently gathering to study it later, before having to hand this sanctuary over to the enemy. Instead, she’s getting fucked on it. Ravenous hands undo fastenings, take off shoes and outer clothes as their mouths look for each other again. His lips take a detour down the contours of her throat, then her shoulder, setting each centimeter of skin on fire as soon as it’s revealed to the cold night air.

But before Luke can realize his intentions of journeying down her body, she stops him by the collar of his open shirt. Though her anxious hastiness is momentarily driven to his skin as she falls quickly to the allure posed by the mauvish lines of his scars. (Y/N) grips her healthy leg around his waist in order to bring him close enough to kiss them. His heart beats fast under her tongue as she faithfully tends to that darker nest marking his chest, then following the paths of lightning to his neck while her hands caress tingly trails down his hips. Luke curses under his breath.

“Need you,” she begs, rolling her hips upwards against his erection, loving how it grows and throbs following her touches.

“You got me already,” he promises in between kisses, ”you got everything.”

With a quick movement of her fingers, she slips his cock under her panties, rocking her hips against it. “I want you inside.”

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I’m serious,” she whines.

“You’re soaking wet.” A note of morbid pride tints his voice, slowly grinding as the movement bulging through her panties teases her lips open. His voice is slipping out already. Their combined dance rubs her swollen clit, each stroke smearing precum on her underwear until the fabric is soaked. “You sure?”

With an excited hum, she captures his mouth again and devours it as his hands tug down on the elastic around her waist to take her panties off, his heated palms always careful to stroke around the bandages on her thigh. She gasps impatiently when she feels the warm pulse of the tip against her, making a nasty wet sound at first contact. Luke strokes her cheek, the gentle caress of his thumb on her lips, gaze locked with hers as they toy with the edge of this one last limit between them. Until, with a dallying thrust, his cock finally delves inside.

Despite the lubrication and his slow advances, the tension pulls a gasp and then a brittle whimper from within her. She’s already had him in her hand and in her mouth, and still she’s clearly overestimated how quickly she could take him.

“You ok?” he asks in a whisper. (Y/N) nods, fervent to deepen this feeling of being stretched so sweetly by him. Even though she shouldn’t find it pleasurable, he does it so deliciously slow she’s willing to take it all. So she wraps her healthy leg around him and brings him closer, making his cock finally sink all the way down into her. Luke shudders and shoots her an exasperated look, though lust-filled still.

“T-too tight.” However, she grips tighter, taken by the tingly wave of euphoria that just washed over her brain, erasing every other thought or sensation that isn't his body on her, breathing fire on her throat, her hole stuffed. “Don't do that, not yet, f-fuck.”

Oh, so he needs a bit to adjust too. It's probably her fault, for rushing into this without proper preparation. She probably shouldn't have, for both of their sakes, but those little whines he's making are too glorious to think of anything else. So she praises him, you're stretching me so nicely, and then he finally thrusts, his motions flowing at a lazy pace, still shy because of the fear of hitting a tender spot. Don't hold back, she begs. As Luke obliges, she lets out a thankful moan while he’s immersed in the slow plunging inside of her, seemingly spellbound.

“That’s it, love. Just like that,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. Luke pounds into her hard yet slow, deep. And yet, not a single time her wound gets grazed or her thigh handled in a way that makes it hurt more than it already does. She aches to switch places and be on top, but her wounded leg won’t let her, rolling her hips desperately to feel him deeper inside. Her frustrations get interrupted by a kiss.

“Please, let me serve you this time,” he pants against her lips, as if he’s sensed her thoughts dispersing. Fuck, of course he’d say this. He’s tried to hide it, but she knows damn well how he’s been enjoying himself all day, trying to help her covertly. “I’ve been needing you for so long. It’s been s-so long.”

She props herself on her elbows to follow after him, to kiss and nibble under his jawline. His hand at the back of her head keeps her close, the intimate gesture radiating a warm feeling that makes her clench harder involuntarily.

“Been missing you too, Luke. I thought of you every waking moment.”

They didn’t dare reach this step their first time together. There was expectation in the air, a need to wait and see where loyalties and affections lied and what might end up weighing more in the scales. Now (Y/N) knows more about her principles than she would have liked. She has seen the cost of his betrayal, tasted the pain and the bitterness of everything she held dear being twisted and stomped until she couldn’t recognize it anymore. And she hates herself for still loving him through it all.

It would be easier if she could keep her love contained in her chest, but she can’t hide it from him. Neither can he keep his own feelings locked down, even if she finds them so hard to believe. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give in to the yearning of her flesh.

The tentative taste they had of each other last time now seems like an innocent game. The rebel feels spent and disillusioned enough to recognize the futility in the little hope she kept tucked away that maybe Luke would come to hold her hand and leave the shadow together. Now, pain has ruined her world beyond fixing. 

This just feels plain wrong and yet she enjoys it that way.

“That’s it, use me. Please, use me,” he begs, tightly pressing their bodies together so her clit gets that intoxicating friction she’s been chasing. “Use me.”

(Y/N) can’t help but softly whine his name, gripping his hips and steering him deeper into her pleasure before sinking her teeth in his shoulder. The sudden sharpness steals from him a deep moan and makes Luke embrace her even more firmly against him.

“Is it good?” he asks in between hasty exhales, “Please, please, tell me.”

“L-love you inside of me,” she manages to articulate, interrupted by her own voice cracking while trying to repeat it, the word love melting into incoherent whines. Each of those deep thrusts tests the limits of what she’d thought she’d be willing to take.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

She whimpers, unsuccessful at weaving coherent thoughts. There’s only his hands on her skin, that alluring frontier of his open shirt, an ever moving limit she’s burning to mark with her kisses following the lightning scars. His cock plunging desperately into her, making her head feel light and drunk with lust. Oh, her face must be pitiful right now. “F-feels good. More, please, more."

Limbs entangled, bodies hardly pressed and brushing against each other, Luke huffs loudly in her ear, one hand pressing her hips closer, the other cradling the back of her head. The impatient pounding turns to a deep rocking, smearing their combined juices all over where their skins brush together in the addicting chase of release. 

He praises her. So good for me. So nice and wet for me. And that seals it for her. In a broken chain of desperate whimpers she begs him to go faster, she grinds her hips harder against him, fingers digging into her flesh, until her legs shake. Every wave of evergrowing pleasure tightens her up, pushing his cock deeper as delight overflows all of her senses. Her head falls to rest weakly on the arm holding her, tingles still clouding her vision.

A mischievous smirk lights up Luke’s face.

“Did you just cum?”

She can just let out a faint moan in response. He gently brushes her messy hair away from her face in search of the flushed bliss across her cheeks, and he licks his lips as he softly caresses hers. It’s cute how he seems so damn proud of himself.  

“Stars, you’re beautiful. That just felt so good, it almost-” One of those last waves tenses her up around him and drowns his words.”S-stop, please.”

“But you just made me cum,” she teases, her body coiling around him with the rolling of her hips, “so hard.”

“Please, sweetheart. I wanna fuck you more.”

Luke leans down to taste her mouth once again, so her yes gets melted together with the blazing kiss. Her body, sensitive and vulnerable, screams from the inside when he starts moving again. Ah, it’s almost too much. Luke spreads her legs wide now, a gloved palm on her injured thigh pushing it up with the utmost care, and slowly picks up the pace. This new angle hits a sensitive spot within her, still tender after her orgasm.

“During every damned boring meeting I… I could only think of fucking you on the war room table,” he breathes out, railing into her with every word.

“In front of all those generals?”

“Well, no-” but his answer makes her laugh and clench around him, making his whole body shiver. “Oh, fuck.”

Pent up beyond what he can take, broken pleas loosely woven into his loud whimpers, Luke grabs her hips and ruts into them in a frenzy at a deep angle, the desperate thrusts making all of her thoughts vanish. Take it. Take it, he groans, like in a trance, most of his weight pinning her down while her broken sobs are all she has left to express how amazing it feelsple. For her, everything fades except his name spilling off her tongue like a deranged chant. 

“Where should I-?” He manages to string out, “…please, tell me, I can't take it anymore.”

“No, you tell me.” She has a feeling that she already knows the answer, but asks anyway, “Tell me where you're gonna cum.”

“I…” he moans. In his eyes she sees how he’s struggling to not completely lose his mind after a whole day of torture.

“Tell me.”

‘I-inside. Let me cum inside you, please. Please, please, please.”

She closes a fist around his hair to bring him close. Do it. Cum for me, she whispers. And the command finally pushes him over the edge. Luke moans her name in her ear, his fingers digging hard into her hips as he comes undone. 

With her limbs warmly tangled around him, they find each other for a breathless kiss. However, she finds herself still rolling her hips, enjoying those last lazy thrusts as he becomes softer inside of her, thick cum starting to drip down onto the carved stone. Luke sinks his head into the crook of her neck and, feeling him shiver as the sweat on his back gets cold in the chill night air, she runs her fingers through his hair in a comforting manner while he struggles to catch his breath. There are tears pooling in his eyes when he finally looks at her. It breaks her heart a little how young he suddenly looks to her. 

“I love you, Luke.”

However, playfulness glimmers in his gaze too. “I love you.”

(Y/N) is still trying to figure out this little hunch when his right hand starts stroking down her body, giving a soft squeeze to a tit, then caressing down her waist, finally reaching between her legs. The light stroke of his fingers up the overflowing slit unearths a gasp out of her, caressing the sticky mess until they’re slippery enough to swirl around her swollen clit.

“No, wait, I can’t. I just-”

Luke teases her with a wet kiss under her ear. “But you’re so needy still, love.”

She muffles a moan on the back of her hand, ashamed of how her body is opening up so greedy to the new stimulation. Her legs quiver at the intoxicating rhythm of his fingers; it’s too much, too soon. Gloved fingers go in, filling her lusciously, and her hips grind into them on their own. 

“Do you like my fingers that much?”

The rebel whimpers, defeated. “So much better than mine. Mine haven’t been enough since…”

“Since what?” Pumping deeper into her makes her words come out pitiful through lewd pants. But perhaps that’s his goal.

“Since you.”

Luke is all her wandering mind has been able to conjure during those few times when she’s managed to find enough privacy to hopelessly ram two fingers into her loneliness, longing for him. Indulging those fantasies always leaves her feeling empty, like she’d just betrayed herself, but her inability to find pleasure in anything else had her always coming back to her memories of him.

Suddenly, she feels a slight tingle on her inner thigh. A kiss. 

“Wait, that’s-”

“What?” he taunts, his lips softly brushing up her leg, his fingers still fucking her at a steady pace. Her voice is barely audible over her flustered gasps. 

“Dirty.” She stammers, her back arching with anticipation. "Th- this is so unfair," 

"Is it? Then I'll stop."

She sobs broken complaints, wordlessly begging. And Luke understands perfectly. His hand retreats to make room for his tongue, a flat and slow lick upwards, his icy gaze burning into her mind that delirious image of being eaten out right after he came inside of her. Clumsy in his relative inexperience yet desperate, voracious. His presence grows omnipresent on her skin, his flesh hand now caressing her thighs around him, now cupping a breast, while his gloved fingers pound into her relentlessly, his mouth on her cunt.

"Can I make you cum again? Will you let me?"

She looks down at the way his fingers fuck his seed back into her, obscene sounds escaping through his steamy sighs. And, through this unbearable ascent of her incredulous senses, his eyes always demand her attention. A devilish glint in them tells her that he won't allow her release until she begs for it. He goes back to suck on her clit, overstimulation bringing tears to her eyes. He’s on the verge of ruining her forever.

"I can't. Oh, Luke, please. I can’t."

"I think you can, sweetheart."

She can't muster a sliver of authority by this point, but the adoration in his smile confesses his desire to spoil her. 

“F-fuck. Yes, please, make me cum.”

"Thank you, love. Now, let go. Cum for me."

The licks become pointed, harder, faster; lips, tongue and fingers slipping over their combined fluids. When she squirms, his left hand lays on her stomach to keep her in place, closer to his face as she weakly tries to writhe away from the intense stimulation. Her trembling legs fight to close around him, helpless to resist the overwhelming delirium turning her senses into a devoted mush. 

And then she floats into that white fire. Even through the piercing bliss, she can feel his satisfaction through his pleased moans when she cries out his name, the broken syllables drowned in whimpers. Ah, she’d walk away from everything if he asked now. 

“That’s it,” a loving thumb caresses her lower lip, “love seeing you like this.”

It gently enters past her lips, sliding up and down her tongue suggestively. Leather and musk floods her senses as she blissfully lies there, contemplating this creature with the light of the moon behind him spilling a crown of silver on his head, looking down at her like an angel. She can merely drool on his hand as she pitifully tries to recover her breath. 

That’s when something grazes her knee, awakening her. He's hard again. So she sits up, eager to tend to him. However, he shakes his head. “Look at you, sweetheart. You barely-”

With a glistening finger, she teases the sensitive spot behind the flushed head “What?”

A muffled moan escapes him, all concerns defeated. 

“My beautiful girl,” Luke sighs just as she brings him closer for a kiss, her hand beating him up and down as she satisfies her own ravenous desire to taste them both on his lips.

“Where do you want it?”

“I’d like to be inside you again. But-”

“Then fuck me again,” she smiles. “Please.”

With a passionate kiss, (Y/N) struggles to climb on his lap, but she’s soon taken back by a painful flare on her wound. The captain whines a little, since she’s really eager to ride him until her legs give out. After Luke checks she isn’t in serious pain, he actually finds her pouting adorable. 

His kind hands gently bring her down, her back resting on him as he lies behind her, an arm hugging her waist, the other pushing her injured leg up and out of the way. Inside the warm chest pressed against her back, Luke's heart speeds up as his cock slides into her again. Penetration isn't as deep at this angle, but it rubs just right into that delicious spot.

His lips cover her neck with warm, generous kisses, though she can feel him peeking down to what his hand is doing traveling up from her waist to play with her breasts.

“Enjoy the view?” she teases, receiving  a muffled hum in response. 

Their mouths seek each other, treasuring each dallying thrust. His fingers come to tease her clit, already tender and slick. (Y/N) sobs quietly at the touch, too spent to complain about the maddening pleasure flooding her mind. And in spite of how much it is, far beyond what she can handle, she wants. She still wants hopelessly. What little remains of her, she’s willing to renounce it. 

And she yearns to tell him, she’s about to.

However, Luke silences her with another kiss, leaving her to whimper into his mouth as he gently wipes a tear off her cheek. Why? He could have what he came to this damned system for. Just- why?

It’s hard to think while being relentlessly filled by his thick cock, with his hands around her body pushing her down harder into him as he fucks her slowly.

“That’s it, love. Y-you’re taking me so well.” Though she can tell how much it overwhelms him too, Luke is still making the effort to keep holding her, praising her. Completely enveloped by his embrace, she hasn’t felt this safe in months. “Is this good?”

“Y-yeah, so good. So good for me.”

She shifts a bit to lie on her back so she can reach him better. She craves to look into his gleaming eyes as his fingers pick up the pace. Their hips buck into each other hypnotically, overflowing slick running down their legs. Growing needy as he approaches another climax, Luke moans her name, a tug in the Force sinking down into her chest and pulling desperately towards him, as if she’s going to vanish at any moment. 

“I’m here, Luke,” she reassures him, brushing away some dirty blond locks from his sweaty forehead. “Just like that. S-so close again, angel. Keep fucking me like that. K-keep…”

His heavy breaths turn into whimpers as words melt off his tongue onto hers, and his embrace grips her closer with the hastening of his thrusts. She cries out in sweet agony, overcome with the combined stimulation, unable to break eye contact. You're gonna make me lose my mind. Need and desire burn in the blue of his eyes, his fingers threadinglo her hair as his other hand turns her anguish into her last, glorious flare of pleasure. 

The orgasm tenses her up tightly around him, the aftershocks bringing him down with her along with the cute breaking of his voice, wretchedly loud. Their foreheads come together with those last few attempts to prolong what’s already over, smearing the dripping fluids into a hot, sticky mess over their thighs as his second load starts spilling out, hot and thick. 

Lacing their hands together, Luke’s lashes flutter on her cheek. Love you, he breathes.

Theyb stay there for a few moments, limbs tangled. With tears still streaming down her face, (Y/N) trembles because of the exhaustion as much as the biting cold. It's the perfect circumstance to hide a shuddering heart. A warm hand comes to rest on her face, as tender eyes take in the bliss in her features. Luke drapes his cloak over her, a soft smile on his face, so she can’t help but pull him closer under the cloak and kiss him, greedily holding his blazing cheeks between her palms. 

“You’re cold, I’m sorry.” His arms envelop her weakened frame. As she nuzzles his shoulder, he lets out a faint chuckle. “In the end you were able to do both things, rebel. Have the prisoner and fuck him too.”

“Not sure if I’ve been a good rebel, though,” she says, tracing a finger down a lightning scar before giving it a light kiss. Luke cradles her head closer, his cheek pressed on her forehead. The heart under her palm, the point from where the mauvish spiderweb expands, slowly relaxes its beating.

His eyes turn up, caught by a far away tingling in his senses. Their time together is coming to a close.

Dreading the possibility of being found naked by the incoming shuttle and her masked pilot, (Y/N) finally sits up to put on her tunic, which Luke imitates, though not without a whiny puff. When sitting up, she realizes the extent of the mess between her legs, though she has no other option right now than get dressed and let it dry on her skin. However, the euphoria of that third high still persists in her brain too much to find it gross.

When looking for the rest of  her clothes, a certain item seems to be eluding her. It isn’t long till she spots it in Luke’s hand.

“I kept the other pair. Would you mind…?”

“Starting up quite the collection, Skywalker.” 

“Keep the cloak in exchange. You’re gonna need it.” She laughs and nods, after which he puts the ruined panties in his pocket, not without his ears turning red. “There’s something more. When you go find my starfighter, look for the compartment under the pilot seat. What’s in there is yours.”

“Like the rest of the fighter, you mean.”

Luke snorts as he welcomes her on his lap, covering them both with his cloak again. “I’ll let you steal the ship if the idea thrills you so much, but this other thing is a gift. Way better than a hickey, I think.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, did I get you into an uncomfortable situation last time?”

“You hadn’t striked me as someone who’s into that, that’s all. But I did like it.”

Well, that’s a thing she didn’t know about herself until then. Until she left his side and spent the next two days blushing at any sensitive grazing of that tender, violet spot that her demands to be marked resulted in, finding a sick excitement in it. She did her best to keep it hidden, but she wasn’t all that successful this one time her clothes moved accidentally while trying to help her friend run away from imperial blasters. She didn't realize until later, when she was putting staples into Leia’s arm and saw reflected in the princess’ face her exact thoughts about the hickey. She seemed more disappointed than angry. Even shut off from the Force, (Y/N) could sense how sad it made her, alongside the complete lack of strength to scold her about it.

Luke seems lost in his own thoughts too, his fingertips drawing circles on her shoulder. “Remember when we used to teach each other? We could do that again.”

There’s nothing she’d love most. Exchanging the little knowledge they acquired from each of their masters, trying to puzzle together a whole that made sense. It seems they never were all that successful, or they wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Her voice comes out tiny, fearful. “Earlier, I almost…”

“I know, love. Don’t worry.” 

In the heat of passion, for a moment she was about to give in. However, it was Luke himself who kept her from falling. It wouldn’t have satisfied him if she didn’t commit to him clear headed, and he certainly isn’t pressuring her for an explanation no. She combs some hair pieces off his brow and brushes their noses together, thinking about that world he’s about to leave her for.

“Will you be alright with him?”

“Of course.” His hand down her hair offers a comfort she can’t bring herself to believe in fully. “It’s not like you think. He’s… kind to me.”

The word comes out crooked, but she knows he’s telling the truth. Or some version of it. She squeezes his artificial hand, now uncovered as the ruined glove lies on the rock. Her fingertips stumbling on all the telltale signs of worn out synthetic skin, she can think of a few dozen reasons why things are indeed like she suspects, because she can imagine Vader committing a thousand atrocities, and none of them close to being kind. The fact that Luke’s fall happened while she was gone instills a painful jab of guilt. There’s something she must have missed, something vital that changed his world forever and can’t just be explained with words.

Sensing her concerns, Luke sighs. “He likes you better than he’s willing to admit, I know it.”

“Great, just what I wanted to know. Allow me to harbor some doubt, though.” The idea of him talking of her to Vader seems taken out of a fever dream, even in the weird reality she lives now, where everything has been flipped upside down. “You love him, don’t you?”

Luke’s gaze turns to the stars, and in the silence (Y/N) hears all she needs. Even if she’s been trying her best to ignore it, the bond between father and son is almost visible to her, like a thick echo, resounding on everything around them and turning it back into a signal pointed in the other direction. She tries not to wonder how much of what’s happened on Jolah was projected onto it. However, the freezing note characteristic of the Sith lord’s signature still pervades, like a stench that can’t be washed off.

The rebel senses how one of her worst nightmares hovers over her head as the buzzing approaches. 

Tears fall on Luke’s knuckles as she kisses them goodbye. Unable to do or say anything of weight, he sweetly takes her flaming cheeks between his hands and seeks her mouth one last time with a mortal hunger written on his lips. She surrenders to his warmth, her tongue deep into the kiss. Their lips dance with a purposely slow passion, an underlying anxiety over the approaching moment of separation looming over them. An open, warm kiss is all they can attempt to sooth each other. It tastes salty. (Y/N) opens her eyes to find that he’s crying too, teardrops caught in his lashes falling to tickle her cheeks.  

Looking up at the landing shuttle burns like putting a hand on a hot stove. She prefers to spend these precious last seconds memorizing his eyes, taking advantage of the lights falling from the starship that illuminate his face. As the kiss dies, she registers every single little fleck and threads of blue, that tiny speck of golden brown, how those irises glimmer with bittersweet adoration for her.

She wouldn’t remember the moment his body was torn from hers, only the dark shape of his shoulders walking away from her.

The rebel’s exhausted mind goes to those treasured details as the shuttle flies away. But it isn’t like last time, when she ran off and closed herself to the Force; fearing the pain too much just resulted in this dull void she’s been living in. No, now she can see the shapes of that unbreakable thread weaving their signatures together. It pulls when he jumps to hyperspace, so brutally she’s scared it might tear her apart. However, after the initial shock, it remains there, irremediably binding her to Luke.

(Y/N) awaits for the aftershocks of that ghost pain to subdue a little before standing from the engraved altar. 

****

Under the compartment Luke indicated (Y/N) finds a book. An actual book, made out of paper. The captain blinks, astonished to find what she’s sure is poetry written in Huttese, even if she can’t read it. He never mentioned an interest for that sort of thing, even though it’s true that they didn’t have time for almost any kind of leisure at all back in the Rebellion, nor was it something he had access to at home. Right now, this is just another reminder of everything she’s missed in his life.

She flips the yellowed pages, filling her nose with their old aroma. However, there’s another note to it, deep and sweet. Another object lies pressed inside the book. A single Malreaux rose, its darkened petals flattened in between the pages. Her fingertips stroke lightly the stains left by dark pigment, remembering the night she gave herself to Luke for the first time among spilled flowers, their scent mixing with his skin. After this little indulgence, she carefully hides the book in her clothes.

As she quickly does the basic flight checks and maneuvers the starfighter to leave the forest planet of Jolah behind, her hand doubts over the communications panel. She should contact the Rebellion. In a matter of minutes, Han’s voice would fill the cockpit, and she’d be shown the way home. However, she enters a different code, one she isn’t supposed to use except in case of a true emergency, unsure of what she’s even going to say during those dreadful seconds it takes to establish the transmission.

“You got some nerve.”

“Hey, princess.”

Leia sighs, “Already heard of your little feat. If it wasn’t for what you’ve done for the survivors of Jolah, I wouldn’t be picking up.”

“Did they get there safely?”

“Yeah, Han called to tell me.” 

Since Leia has been gone from the front to devote herself to the Jedi path, the ex-smuggler has stepped up as a general for the dwindling Alliance. Most of the few that still fight out there answer to him nowadays. Maybe it’s seeing what once was a powerful fleet turned into a guerrilla of a few stubborn rats, but something about the current arrangement doesn’t feel quite right. An inert buzz takes over for a few seconds as both women sit wordless. 

“I think I have an idea of how you pulled it off.”

“It’s ok if you’re pissed at me.”

“I am. But I also can’t find the strength to blame you. I’m too damn exhausted. Some people that could be dead lived, that’s what’s important.” Her tone softens a little. “Good job.”

“My pleasure. How have you been?”

“Exhausted. Artoo keeps me company, but he’s spending a lot of time switched off these days. Not that he’s missing anything, just me belly flopping into the mud.”

“And the training?”

“I didn’t think learning to kill would be so awful.” To kill him, is what she doesn’t say.

“Do you think it’ll come down to that?”

“Master Tano thinks so.”

(Y/N) clicks her tongue. “It should be me over there, the Rebellion needs you.”

“No. That’s not your path. I still got your lightsaber and you know I’m of the opinion it should be with its owner. But I don’t think that’s what you should use it for.”

“Why? You’re so confident I’d lose?” They both know the cockiness is fake, but she needs it. Even if she tried with all she’s got, there’s no way she’d win, no matter how much she got to train with an actual master.

“No. I just don’t feel like losing you too. You keep trying to find another way, ok?”

When they say goodbye and the transmission ends, (Y/N)’s not sure how she could have cleared that one out better. She isn’t trying anything, she’s just selfishly stumbling into her desires every time she encounters Luke. Truth is, she’s abandoned Leia to carry everything on her shoulders, a role she’s too eager to fill, even if it breaks her.

(Y/N) pinches her nose. She’s done running. These are words her friend deserves to hear. So the rebel captain sets course, hoping it’s not too late to speak the truth.

****

This transmission with the commander in charge of the division assigned to Jolah is testing the last remains of Luke’s patience. He doesn’t ever enjoy having to mingle with Imperial officers, but today every single second paying attention to this man feels like an unforgivable waste of his time. He’d much rather be left alone with his thoughts. 

“Make it effective right now,” he orders. The commander immediately straightens his posture and salutes, feeling how much of a nuisance he’s becoming.

“It will be done, sir. The whole squadron will be sent to Thediyo.”

Those men he’s condemning to the cruel cold of the inhospitable Thediyo aren’t but flies, so the fact that they’re able to do so much harm feels wrong. Absurd. They deserve to be destroyed. He made it well karking clear that they were to make prisoners without harming them, didn’t he? And they just hounded (Y/N) like she was a prey animal, which almost killed her. If they just listened to their orders this wouldn’t have happened to them. And still, they should be thankful for his mercy. It would be so easy for him to crush their puny rib cages and skulls until their eyes pop out. 

But something keeps him from giving in to unchained wrath, and it’s the possibility of her finding out. (Y/N) doesn’t deserve to have that in her conscience, and he’s sure she’d blame herself for their deaths. Because she’s actually good. And clean. Way more than she gives herself credit for. No, those men will suffer worse learning to listen to their orders by holding their blasters in the middle of an eternal snow storm until their fingers freeze off.

Luke can sense with distaste his own dark machinations vibrating into the bond next to him, like an insect trapped in a spider web. If his father thinks he’s weak for not just murdering the bastards, he can choke in his disappointment. The same with his thoughts of his whole ordeal. They’re close to winning, right? The Alliance will soon be no more, and he has had an important hand in that. He doesn’t have the right to reproach him about anything. Vader won’t chastise him directly, he rarely does, but the young apprentice knows training sessions are going to become hell from now on, even more of what it’s been. He doesn’t care.

His father’s tutelage has been tough. Back in the day, Yoda’s training had put his mind and body to the test far beyond what he thought possible. But his father’s can’t even begin to compare. Now that he’s endured it long enough, Luke is starting to see the seams that reveal the structure, the reasons behind every exerting challenge. Some things within himself had to be broken in order to build a new kind of power, a lot had to be torn down before his new master deemed the results satisfactory. And he came out of it more powerful than he could have imagined.

It had never been easy. After going to his father, to his family, he looked back and saw all the things he regretted leaving behind. Luke hadn’t held real hope of being followed to this side, except for her. Maybe it was self indulgent, wishful thinking on his part.

(Y/N) knows what he’s done in the frontlines and she’s still managed to look him in the eye. To love him. However, he can’t help but torture himself with the thought that if she knew the ways he’s used to delve deeper into the dark side, she’d immediately go retrieve her lightsaber and end his life with it.

But that selfish little voice wonders why, even after all the sacrifices, all the loses, she can’t see how close the fight is to its end, just as they both wished together in the past. If he could just be made to see…

Shit. That’s an ugly thought. He shouldn't forget he once thought of things in stark white and black terms. Once, falling to the dark side meant the destruction of a person’s soul, left as a hollow husk with no salvation other than slaughter. He'd be lying if he said he doesn't feel empty and beyond help sometimes, often on the battlefield. Killing isn't all that different now than when he did it for the other side, just the same fire and ash, burnt skin. The feeling that he’ll never be able to inhabit his own skin again after staining his hands with so much blood. The only difference lies in the lack of that wretched self righteousness he used to brandish to justify his actions. During the day, at least. At night come the ghosts of screaming, agonizing souls through the Force, right before the void of death. The hole in the fabric of the universe left by the annihilation of the Death Star, hundreds of thousands erased with a movement of his finger. It’s lingered ever since, always in the last nightmare before waking up, always in the corner of his vision and the faint ringing in his ears.

However, he pushed forward. Because it was all supposed to matter, because there was a plan. And then it turned out he’d been lied to. Soon after, (Y/N) was taken. He lost her because he was too soft and undecided. Too weak. He dragged on for a good while that he'd never see her again, that she was gone and it was his fault.

If she had been there that one time he encountered Vader again, after Bespin. It turns out the death mask held more than just the monster. When the lines between life and death, friend and enemy, were blurred, a kind hand capable of kindness was extended to him. It felt like family. There, consumed by shame and impotence, Luke became convinced that he'd never get to feel that again. So when it came down to the decision of killing it along with his father, he found an unexpected comfort in the realization that he'd already made his choice 

However, Luke doesn’t appreciate the impatient silence building up next to him, on the pilot seat. One thing that surprised him at first is that his father was a quiet listener, always pacing around the shapes of his thoughts. He also didn't expect not minding it at all, but also missing it when it was gone.

“Go on. Blame me.”

“I do not care. Some worthless flies just escaped for another day. Now matter how hard they wriggle, their downfall is inevitable now.”

“I thought you'd dislike my weakness.”

A discordant note rings through their bond, a bitter echo. It dissolves quickly, leaving the accusation unanswered.

Yeah, he's definitely saving payback for later. He can try all he wants, torture him even. Of all the things Luke regrets, this will not be one of them.

He shakes his head in distaste. The vertigo he felt when he made that jump of faith for his father still echoes sometimes. Even if it was his choice, he sometimes struggles to see if he really had any say in it. It all happened so fast, it was pure instinct. 

No, he won't fall to suspicion and start resenting him, that path ends up with an inevitable betrayal. That's the Emperor’s way and, with him gone, his ways must die too, for everyone's sake. Luke has found a new power in the dark side, and he's sworn to use it for good. Until now, he's been successful at keeping that intoxicating darkness at hand, that scarlet rush that tingles through his whole body with the temptation to let go all the way into blind, destructive rage. However, he’s found he can control his passions, harness them into a tool, as much as it hurts. 

Luke doesn't care about power, it's just a means to an end. He loathes it. He just wants all this to end

His fingers instinctively go to the inner pocket of his tabard where, kept close to his chest, he put a stem of those little white flowers that grew through the window of his cell. The delicate petals look reasonably intact, though a little sadder than this morning. He better press them soon.

His father subtly turns his head, but he doesn’t say anything. However, the exasperation travels all the way through their bond.

“I don’t blame you. However, this bond… You need to be prepared to be hurt if you keep it.

“You're saying she won't understand.” Luke runs a hand through his hair, feeling the fleeting warmth of her body leave his skin. “You've prepared me for pain, haven't you?”

“I’ve trained you to understand pain. To harness anger into power.”

Only the artificially aided breathing echoes while Lord Vader’s thoughts float far away, somewhere close to those white blooms in his son’s hand. Luke sighs.

“Then it's fine. I'll be hurt for it.”

[enigmatist17]

Catch me thinking about all the clones "waking" up in the past after their final brother (read Rex and Kix) eventually dies

I want to say they just kind of wake up a handful of years before the clone wars start

Most of the commanders are teenagers, and the original batchers like Fordo/Alpha-17 and all are in their early 20's

At first they don't act on anything, most of them having hidden tearful reunions while the longnecks don't seem to notice a change among their clones

--> Rex has the most challenging time adjusting, having been the last one for so long that it's almost too much to have faces of the past around him. It helps when Fives and Echo find him one night, and the three are just a crying mess in a corner where the longnecks won't think to look for them. Kix joins them wordlessly, having still been silent about his own life years and years after they all had died.

Once they all figure out that almost everyone has "woken" up, it's all too easy to take Kamino for their own. It's before the war, the Jetti don't know them yet, and the chips are told to those who died before/during their activation. Many tears are shed when Order 66 is discussed by the few survivors, and those who had a hand in killing their Jetti only feel guilt until they all collectively realize that it won't happen this time

The Kaminoans don't realize that the clones are taking the city for themselves until it happens. They move way too precisely for non-combatants, but they slice through security and lock down everything like they knew all the codes since birth, and by the end of a rotation Tipoca and its adjoining facilities are under their control.

Jango is confused by what just happened, and even more so when he starts to realize all the clones are speaking a set of mando'a that is entirely that of his clones, and apparently know this language despite not being very old. They don't seem to want to hurt him either, looking at him with eyes that are haunted like those of a veteran soldier. The one he calls Kote eventually takes pity, and after ensuring what he would hear couldn't be recorded or broadcast, they speak.

He speaks of a war that takes so many lives, how he was used and made easy to execute, and how his clones were used and abused until the fall of the Republic and everything else.

Jango is silent the entire time, and eyes Boba sleeping in his room more than once. He had come to Kamino a long time ago to give his DNA, another job on the list, but to hear that the clones adopted what they could from what culture he taught some of the earliest clones stirred something in him.

Overall, Jango doesn't step in their way, and they don't force him to do anything, just awed to see the Prime that only so few had seen the first time.

Someone eventually has the bright idea to alert the Jetti instead of waiting for a few years, and it's decided that Fox would lead the initiative. Fox is honored and no he doesn't tear up a little bit, you saw nothing (he's lying, and the former Guard commander doesn't want to leave Tipoca at first, if he sees Coruscant, it'll be too soon)

He goes anyways, with Hound, Cody, Fordo, and Ponds following suit, a silent Jango hopping onto their ship clad in full armor. The clones have decided to have only Fordo in his armor, and the others are wearing some "civilian" clothes they'd stitched together to try and not be obvious they're all alike. Fox nearly has a panic attack when he lays eyes on the Senate building they pass over, and is surprised when Jango of all people steadies the younger clone.

They don't just walk into the Jedi Temple, instead leaving some carefully placed data sticks where they know they'll be seen, and after refueling head back to Kamino, so as to not alert a specific someone. Fox knows that they'll be soon gathered up by padawans, and that darker forces wouldn't think to search in a random Temple wall.

It takes the Jetti over a month, but when Kenobi's interceptor pierces the stormy clouds, there is a buzz of excitement.

The Jedi in question doesn't understand the sheer outpouring of joy when he steps out of his ship, and has to take a second to ground himself otherwise he'll start grinning (seriously why were they happy, he's never seen them before)

He's not sure what to expect, but the massive facilities that seem to be run by children are...not what he imagined, children with the eyes of battle-worn soldiers that watch his every move.

They don't tell Obi-Wan everything, pretending that they have information from a source that the Sith lord they seek is on Coruscant and that they will not be conscripted for a Republic they know nothing of.

Obi-Wan can tell they're lying a bit, but doesn't press. He also doesn't understand why they would be conscripted in the first place, but the clones are nothing but kind and respectful, with not a hint of darkness amongst any of them.

He stays for a few days, and eventually, the Force itself decides to speed things along and gives Obi-Wan a vision of a future from a sleeping Cody's mind, showing the Jedi years of trust that ended in devastation. Cody wakes up to Obi-Wan wrapped around him, and his heart sings for the first time in so long.

I am Filled With Thoughts

[knightotoc]

Who fumbled the trope better: The Rise of Skywalker or Picard Season 3? (long post by a hater)

1. Everyone's Related

- TRoS: retcons the story to make the protag someone's kid; it's a big reveal with little time to process; odd things are apparently genetic (like shooting lightning and being evil and goth); she rejects her heritage and chooses a different family, who are all dead; the emotional peak is a father ('s ghost) redeeming his wayward son; nepo kids get together, sorta; a claustrophobic sense of being trapped in the past and made intentionally inferior to the famous

- PIC S3: protag has had a secret kid this whole time; it's a big reveal with little time to process; odd things are apparently genetic (like bravery and accent); inconsistent with other legacy character's parental experiences (Geordi's daughters are second-tier characters who parallel Jack's rejection-acceptance-nepotism arc; Riker and Troi's kids are briefly but emotionally discussed; one emotional line about Wesley; one unemotional line about Lal; utter absence of Alexander); the emotional peak is a father redeeming his wayward son; as Picard's unqualified son and Geordi's qualified daughter get jobs on the bridge of Starfleet's flagship, Picard says, "Names mean almost nothing," and his son responds, "Names mean almost everything;" nepo kids get together, sorta; a mind-numbing sense of conservative family values and reassuring some very insecure people

2. Lesbian Queerbaiting

- TRoS: in the final celebration homage to RotJ, two minor characters kiss in the background; this spawned the "live slug reaction" meme that has now manifested as a homophobic inside joke in Jedi: Survivor

- PIC S3: Seven and Raffi got together in S2 and became Trek's first lesbian couple between two major characters (DISCO already gave us Trek's first major gay couple), but they broke up before the events of S3; they are coworkers in the end of S3, but are not back together because of...

3. Fear of Shippers

- TRoS: Finn is clearly into Rey, but it's unclear if she likes him back; Rey and Kylo kiss sans romantic music, but then he dies and she does not see his ghost; two more women are introduced to pair with Finn and Poe, but none of them get together either; it's unconfirmed, but the vibe is that they didn't want to commit to anything to try to please everyone

- PIC S3: the vibe is the same and it is confirmed:

(by "that scene," he means Picard returning to Laris)

Both franchises also had a focus on an interracial relationship (Finnrey and Saffi), then have the Black person hang out mostly with another Black character (Jannah and Worf) while the white person hangs out with mostly white characters.

4. Bad Boy Braincontrol

- TRoS: somehow Palpatine returned, and he's been in Kylo's mind this whole time; that's why he's evil, not anything of his own free will, just the old story impressing itself upon him (he still has to die though); you know this villain, just defeat him with the power of love like you did last time

- PIC S3: somehow the Borg Queen returned, and she's been in Jack's mind this whole time; that's why he has intrusive thoughts, not because that's a thing that happens to people, just the old story impressing itself upon him; you know this villain, just defeat her with the power of love like you did last time

The visual similarities of Zombie Palpatine and Zombie Borg Queen are remarkable -- physically trapped in dusty corners by creepy machines -- and would be even more interesting if I could actually see them in these dark rooms. This design, which suggests an elderly person immobile in a hospital, actually makes me feel a lot of pity and affection for them. It certainly would have felt far more heroic to help these poor creatures than to rather easily defeat them.

5. We Love Objects

- TRoS: Kylo's private room is literally a museum with curated displays of old props; fetch quest video game-y plot; lots of attention paid to whose lightsaber does what and goes where

- PIC S3: let's break into the museum of old props; kitschy oil paintings of the Enterprise and Picard on the walls; the most unearned and half-hearted "long shots of beloved ship leaving space dock" sequence in a franchise full of such sequences

[truly-neutral-art]

I have too many DinLuke ideas and I need opinions other than my own. What should I focus on first? I'm crippled by decision making. (I'll put more detailed descriptions below the cut if you care about that)

Feel free to comment any other opinions, I am struggling with the indecision. And if anyone wants to scream with me about any of these ideas I would welcome it with open arms :)

Meet Pre ANH AU: Din and Luke meet while Din is on a job on Tatooine and Luke inserts himself into Din's job (because he's bored) Din gets injured and has to spend time recovering under Luke's care and they fall for each other. Din has to leave once he recovers and promises to come back for Luke as soon as possible but, unbeknownst to both of them, Luke is pregnant.

Fantasy AU: Sort of a King Arthur vibe with Din finding the Darksaber and needing to reclaim the ancient kingdom of Mandalore. Din doesn't desire the throne, simply wanting to take care of Grogu (a boy he saved from a band of thieves) but he can't avoid his destiny. Luke is a Druid who wants to teach Grogu, who has Druid abilities, how to use magic and ends up assisting Din on his quest. The usual suspects also show up and help along the way.

Post S2 canon divergence: This is just my take on a slow burn gffa dinluke with a lot of the usual tropes. Mostly just "the wacky adventures of The Jedi and The Mandalorian: acquire children" because I need more of that in my life.

Greek Mythology AU: Luke is the demigod son of Anakin, the god of the heavens. He grew up to be a renowned hero, as many demigods do, and was sent on many quests. His newest quest sends him to the underworld to deliver a gift to the god of the dead. Little does he know, a vengeful god and the king who sent him on his quest have set him up. When Luke gets to underworld he finds out that he was meant to be the gift. Now he has to deal with Din, the god of the dead, who is outraged by Luke's arrival.

Apocalypse AU: The world has been taken over by a sickness that horrifically mutates people, animals, and even plants into killing machines. Din is just another survivor trying to make it through another day but finds his priorities change when he meets Grogu. Not long after taking in the child, Din realizes that the young boy has the ability to influence the creatures that have taken over the world. When people come after Grogu for his abilities Din has to put his trust into a mysterious man, Luke, to keep his son safe.

Medieval fantasy AU: The new Duke of Mandalore, Din Djarin, comes to Coruscant, the capital of the United Republic of Kingdoms, to sign treaties and make alliances. Many people expect Din to marry to strengthen his position so all eyes are on him, much to his discomfort. Meanwhile the Skywalker family's position is threatened by old enemies, leaving them vulnerable to attack. To solve both their problems Luke and Din get married, but now they have to convince everyone that this is a love match and not a marriage of convenience.

Harry Potter AU: This was mostly inspired by a comedy bit pointing out that Harry Potter was just Star Wars but with shitty lightsabers. The story would take place during the tri-wizard tournament and follow a similar storyline to the original. However, this has a focus on the romance between Din and Luke (obviously), the champion from Mandalore (Durmstrang) and the chosen one respectively. (Also I can make Luke trans just to stick it to JKR)

Spy X Family AU: Luke is a spy sent to look after Grogu who is an asset to the republic. Din found Grogu first on a job and is informed of Grogu’s importance by the mandos (mercenary guild). Republic wants Grogu to become a politician that can unite the two factions (Republic and Imperials). Mandos want Grogu to be knowledgeable of Mandalorians and be sympathetic to their causes. Both want Grogu to go to this elite school (has family requirements) that lead to Din and Luke making a fake family with Grogu to further the goals of their respective sides.

[tatzelwyrm]

After beating jedi survivor twice i have one issue with it. The villains are so boring!!

Dagen is an angsty whining final fantasy looking jerk

Bode was fun UNTIL HE WENT EVIL. And then he reminded me of dagen with his crappy attitude.

Rayvis had me very intrigued and couldve been a great villain… if he didnt have a collective total of like 15 minutes of screen time before dying.

Frankly after such a great antagonist in trilla when playing fallen order, it was really a disappointment dealing with these fools

I am with you on Dagan and Rayvis, but Bode haunts me.

Dagan in particular is very forgettable, which is a shame, because a 200-year-old High Republic era Jedi with a grudge is a fun concept. But, in the end, he might as well have remained a vision encountered entirely through Cal's psychometry. Him being there in the flesh didn't add much to the game apart from 3 boss fights.

Rayvis is your standard proud warrior guy with a life debt who lives for war. He sounds like the voice actor had fun, but there's nothing much to him that interests me. But then, as you say, it's not like he's really in the game all that much.

Neither of them is as fleshed out or has as much of a presence as Trilla.

But Bode just haunts me.

I suspected he was gonna betray us the moment he showed us a picture of his little daughter, but despite his betrayal being expected, I ended up enjoying the details a lot.

I've said elsewhere that I believe that the phrase "doomed by the narrative" is overused but that I believe that it fits Bode perfectly and that's why I enjoy his story.

[Detailed spoilers follow.]

I am compelled by how trapped he is. How he trapped himself long before we ever meet him.

He is so driven by his fears that he would rather live alone with his daughter on an empty planet than share it.

He is so driven by his fears that he can't trust anyone. In his eyes, anyone could be a spy, anyone could betray him and Kata to his masters. Why is he so convinced that anyone among the Hidden Path could be a spy? Because he is one himself and betraying people is his job. It's delicious.

Cal is also driven by fear of loss. His goal in this game is to gather everybody he cares about and hide them away in a place where none of the evil in the galaxy can touch them. It's a fantasy so naive that, a week later, I still can't believe he pulled it off, even if only on a surface level (which is my one problem with the game. The ending is too open. I kept waiting for the consequences for Cal's brief touch with the dark side. I kept waiting for him to realise that keeping Tanalorr a secret and the compass out of the hands of the Empire is going to be enormously complicated, maybe even impossible, especially given that he mentions making copies the compass... I hate when AAA games do cliffhangers, given how much time it takes to make one).

But one difference between Cal and Bode is that Bode can't trust anyone. Cal's goal is explicitly to share his mythical paradise planet with as many people as possible while Bode is so paranoid he apparently wants his daughter to grow up a hermit on an empty.

Bode assumes the worst of everyone because he himself is the worst vs. Cal who assumes the best of everyone and offers second chances like candy (to Caij, to Rayvis, to Trilla in Fallen Order, to Bode himself).

Bode is another dark mirror for Cal, like Trilla, like Dagan (nothing new here, it's a narrative staple, but a good one in my option, I enjoy it, and I like the way it's done in Fallen Order with Trilla and I like the way it's done with Bode here). Bode is what Cal could become if he lets his fears of loss consume him.

There is still hope for Cal though while there was never any hope for Bode. He was on that road long before we met him.

While I'm personally not a fan of stories that explore that whole "attachments are bad if you're a Jedi" angle (and I suspect we're getting a lot more of that in a potential sqeuel), Bode is actually a good example in my eyes.

Bode offered himself to the Empire. The game (in particular the Force Echoes on Nova Geron) makes it very clear that Bode is the one who approached the ISB, not the other way around. This wasn't a situation in which he was held at gunpoint and offered the choice to work for the ISB or die. He also wasn't tortured into working for the Empire like Trilla and other Inquisitors. Bode himself put Kata in the hands of the Empire because he was a slave to his fears.

It's what makes him so tragic. He never could have acted any differently. Nothing we could have done could have convinced him to truly trust Cal. Bode is simply in too deep.

By the end it's clear he doesn't even really care about Kata as a person. How is living alone on an empty planet good for her? How is living on an ISB base good for her while Bode is away all the time? He ends up hurting her over and over in name of protecting her, even physically, in the end.

By the time we meet him, all that matters to Bode is that she is alive and he can keep clinging to her and to the handy excuse she represents. It's the way he lives.

There is a Force Echo on the Lucrehulk in which Bode hopes that Cal is safe after they're separated. But once Bode remembers that he is going to betray Cal eventually, he buries that sentiment very quickly with the mantra of "I'm doing this for Kata".

Bode needs to keep telling himself that every horrible thing he does is for Kata, because if that ever stops being true, what does that make him?

Bode can't be saved just like the Ninth Sister couldn't be saved in the beginning of the game. Honestly, when we killed the Ninth Sister in the tutorial level I was wondering why she was even in the game, given how quickly we dispatched her.

But by the end it made sense to me. She was there to mirror Bode's fate. Cal hesitates a long, long time before dealing the killing blow to her. He talks to her (at her, rather, given that this is a very one-sided conversation). He calls her by her name, her true name. She never answers. She just stomps and snarls, too consumed by her anger to form words. Cal's final words to her are "it's time to set you free". He realises nothing he could do could make her turn from her path. She's going to keep fighting until one of them is dead.

It's the same with Bode. Cal begs him to surrender. Bode never stops fighting him, consumed by his fear. When Bode shoots first, Cal realises nothing he could do could make him let go of his fear. Bode is going to keep fighting until one of them is dead. Dying is the only way in which Bode could ever be free from his fears.

Perfect bookends.

I hate Bode because he killed sweet old never-did-anything-wrong-in-his-entire-life Cordova (right in front of BD-1, too!) and because he uses Kata as a cheap excuse for everything, including leading countless people to their deaths, betraying Cere's location and leaving Kata herself trapped on an ISB base (and, eventually, potentially, on a peaceful but empty planet).

But mainly I feel so sorry for him because he's so tragic. He dug himself a hole and never stopped digging...

[dumfanting]

An Unexpected Survivor

AO3 Link

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Notes: second person PoV, present tense, fem reader but it’s never stated

2308 words

I’m on vacation but I’ve had this written up for a few weeks, I figured it would tide you guys over. Anybody bored of these ‘sideways fics’ yet? I keep thinking I am but then ideas just keep popping up. That said, part two?

Echo/ Reader

You leave Coruscant in an attempt to outrun your ghosts, until you bump into the biggest of them.

You want to help, need to; it is so ingrained into you that it is almost your entire identity. But you can’t do it anymore. So much pain and death, so many nightmares, all the horrors of war, it had all finally gotten to you. You decide that, as hard as it would be, leaving the GAR behind was the best thing to do for yourself.

Where would you go from there? You have no idea, but as long as it isn’t Coruscant, you don’t care where you wind up. You sell everything you own, save for a few sentimental items and absolute basics, then run to the closest shuttle and disappear.

That had been years ago, although you don’t know exactly how many. Long enough for the Jedi to be slaughtered and for the Empire to take over, you do at least know that much. You refuse to accept that they were all traitors; you had worked with them for years and never once got the feeling that anything was wrong.

You pause and backtrack your thoughts a little to reflect on how familiar your current situation is; once again, you’ve decided to drop everything and leave for another planet. You never stay anywhere long enough to put down any roots. In fact, after more than a few people learn your name, outside of whoever you work for, you take off again.

Deep down you know that you’re trying to run from the life you left behind, the memories, and the loss, but you never consciously acknowledge it. You just tell yourself that you have grown restless and bored, so that’s why you’re leaving again.

You’ve lost count of how many places you’ve been by this point. For all the planet-hopping you’ve been doing the past however many years, so far, nowhere you have stayed has felt like ‘home’.

You glance up at the info screen at the head of the shuttle's cabin and see that you’re about half an hour away from Ord Mantell, a mid-rim planet which you’ve never heard of before today. Maybe this place will be different, you think to yourself. But your hopes aren’t high.

A week after arriving, you found a place to stay and to work. You aren’t particularly enjoying the months you’ve spent at the cantina, but it’s better than the sanitation job you had before you got here, and you know you likely won’t stay for very long anyway. Cid, despite her coarse, in-your-face attitude, is a marginally better boss than your last one. She didn’t ask where you came from or why you were here, and made it clear she doesn’t really care. “Just do your job, that’s the only thing I give a damn about,” she’d said. One of the things you like about this planet is that everybody here seems to mind their own business.

As part of your employment agreement with Cid, she allows you to stay in one of the small rooms upstairs. It’s here, on the top floor, that you spend most of your time, lounging on the large window sill and staring out over the city without really looking at anything, and this afternoon is no different.

You idly scan over the crowd in the nearby square, then double take back to a point near the street. You can’t remember the last time you’d seen a human man that big. His size is exaggerated by the small blonde girl who is tagging along with him, followed by maybe two or three other, more average sized men. There’s a flicker of familiarity that you can’t quite place in the back of your mind when you take a closer look and notice that the men are all wearing armor. But it isn’t Imperial stormtrooper armor, could they be clones? From what little detail you could make out, none of them looked like clones.

You don’t have a lot of time to think about this, however. As the chrono on your wrist chimes the hour, Cid hollers your name from the staircase, right on the dot like she always does. Time to start your shift. You shout that you’re coming, and when you hear her retreating down the creaking stairs, you glance out over the crowd again, but the people you had seen have moved out of view. You sigh heavily, not looking forward to another night of being leered at and hit on while you mix cheap drinks, but you put your shoes on and head to the cantina anyway.

You make your way downstairs into the bar proper, and when Cid sees you, she tells you to go into the store room and bring out a new bottle of Spotchka. You acknowledge this, and duck under the stairs and into the semi-hidden doorway there. It takes you a minute, shuffling objects around in the dim, dusty light, but you eventually find the bottle. You hold it by the neck and walk back out of the doorway, looking around the place out of habit as you go.

“Hey Cid, I’ve got the-,” you start to say, but interrupt yourself with a shocked gasp. Your hand goes slack and you drop the bottle, too focused on who you see before you to notice that it’s shattered and the sticky liquor is soaking into your shoes.

You recognize the blonde girl and the big guy as the ones you noticed earlier while upstairs; they’re accompanied by a slim man wearing goggles and another with half his face tattooed, but you aren’t paying them any attention. The subject of your stare is standing behind the slim man, staring back at you and looking just as shocked as you feel.

He’s unnaturally pale, and much too thin, but there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes.

It’s Echo.

A sudden blast of dizziness sweeps over you, you stumble, and you lean heavily onto the wall behind you, your hands trembling.

Cid glances between you two, looking almost amused. “Go take a breather in my office,” she says. “I’ll deal with these guys.”

You thank her, then shakily stand up straight, tearing your eyes away from the man who is supposed to be dead as you go into a different doorway, the door sliding shut behind you.

Earlier outside, as he follows the others across the square, Echo gets an odd sensation that they are being watched. He looks around, but sees nothing, then glances up at the building they are heading towards, and spots someone staring out of a window on the top floor. Whoever it is, they’re too far away for him to get a good look at, but something about them seems… familiar? He looks back and finds the others ahead of him. Unaware that he had stopped walking, he moves quickly to catch up. When he glances back at the window, whoever had been there had left.

Echo shakes himself and focuses on the blonde girl to make sure she doesn't wander off. He takes her, gently but firmly, by the shoulder and steers her into the cantina with the others, following closely behind.

His initial impressions of the place aren’t good. The cantina is small, not filthy but certainly not clean, and dimly lit. It’s empty, save for two non-humans at a table in the corner and the Trandoshan behind the bar. It’s definitely a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Something just feels off about it all.

Echo doesn’t have much time to examine his surroundings any further before he is distracted by the sound of a door creaking open and shut. He hears a voice, a voice that belongs to someone he knows to be dead, say “Hey Cid, I’ve got the-,” before it’s cut off by a gasp and the sound of breaking glass.

It’s you. He stares in disbelief for a few seconds as you stumble backwards against the wall.

The Trandoshan, Cid, tells you to take a breather in her office. Echo watches you thank her before you shakily make your way into another room.

The door shuts behind you and you lean heavily backward onto it. Your legs are suddenly too weak to support yourself, and you slide down the door and into an awkward seated position on the floor, your head spinning.

It shouldn’t be possible. Echo is supposed to be dead. He was blown up for kriff’s sake! You close your eyes and tilt your face up towards the ceiling, making a conscious effort to control your breathing. You manage to get a hold of yourself within just a few seconds, thanks to years of practice at fighting off panic attacks, and realize that you can hear the conversation outside. You press your ear to the door and listen carefully.

You can hear Cid grumbling as she sweeps up the broken glass and dumps it into a nearby waste bin. She bluntly asks how they know you.

“They don’t,” Echo says, sounding shaken. “But I do.”

“Who was that?” a distinctly girlish voice asks, obviously the kid.

“My… my cyare, my partner,” he says, barely audible.

You sit up, get to your feet, and crack the door open just enough to peek outside and see what’s happening. Echo has moved onto a stool at the bar, and the others are carefully watching him. He’s partially obscured by two of them, so you can only really see him from the shoulders up. He’s bald and appears to be wearing some kind of device over his ears that is molded to the back of his head. You also notice what looks like plug ports just above that and elsewhere on his head and wonder what the hell happened to him.

“But I thought you told us-,” the large man says, confused, before the one with the tattooed face shoots him a hard look.

“Well he was obviously misinformed,” the slim man in the goggles says bluntly. “But we have more pressing matters. Hunter?” he says, turning toward the tattooed man.

Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Yes, we do,” he says, then gets Cid’s attention.

You quietly shut the door, and make your way over to a crate on the opposite side of the room. You sit heavily upon it, still faintly able to hear what Hunter and Cid are saying, but not paying them any attention.

Your mind races with questions. How did Echo survive? What happened to him to make him look like that? You assumed the other men he's with are also clones, but why are they so different? Who’s the little girl? How do they know Cid? If he’s alive, does that mean Fives could be too? The dizzy feeling threatens to overtake you again, but you shake yourself. The action has cleared your head enough for you to return your focus onto the sounds from the other side of the door. You hear booted footsteps approach, and Hunter, who appears to be the leader, speaks in a low voice.

“You can go on and figure this out, I’ve got it handled,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Echo says, sounding apprehensive.

“We shouldn’t be going anywhere else for the rest of the day. Take as long as you need to,” Hunter says.

You hear a muffled clapping sound, and guess that Hunter has gripped Echo’s shoulder for a few seconds before the booted footsteps fade away again. The door slides open, and you get your first look at Echo in his entirety. His right arm and hand are gone, replaced with a scomp link. You can’t tell for sure due to his armor, but it looks like both of his legs have been replaced with cybernetics too. You search his face and see that he’s avoiding your eyes, seeming to brace himself for something.

You stand from a the crate and take a few long strides across the room, stopping in front of him. Moving slowly, you cautiously raise your hand and cup one side of his face. The warmth and solidity of him assures you that you aren’t dreaming. You turn him to look at you, and despite everything that’s changed, his eyes are still the same. You softly say his name, and he says yours in return.

“You should be dead,” you say in a whisper.

“Look who’s talking,” he says, the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips for just a second.

The two of you stand like that for another second or so, then you move your hands to his shoulders and pull him close, crashing your lips into his and kissing him deeply. He’s too surprised to react, at first, but quickly relaxes and reciprocates, wrapping his remaining arm around your waist and pulling you tightly against his chest.

You hear the distinct sound of Cid clearing her throat and the two of you break apart, caught off guard, to look at her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, but there’s a faint smile on her face. This may be the first time you’ve ever seen her genuinely smile, you think. She clears her throat again.

“If I give you the night off, will you promise not to fuck him in my office?” she says. Echo’s jaw drops in response to her bluntness, but you’ve grown used to it, and can’t help but smirk at her.

“Deal,” you say, stepping back from Echo.

Cid exaggeratedly rolls her eyes and waves the two of you out of the room.

Just before you reach the stairs, she says your name, prompting you to take a few steps backward to see what she wants. “Try to keep it down,” she says, smirking.

“No promises,” you say. Once Cid rolls her eyes again and walks away, you take Echo by the hand and practically drag him up the creaking staircase behind you.

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina

[southern-stark]

“Ghost”

Here’s another one of my clone OCs: “Ghost”

Ghost is a clone deserter turned mercenary. (His unit was wiped out with him being the only survivor)

He has no love for the Republic or the Jedi (he comes to the same conclusion “Slick” did in the Clone Wars series, but instead of working for the Separatists, he decides to use his skills to make a profit in the Outer Rim).

At first he would take jobs that would pay well and adhered to his grey/dark grey moral code, but near the end of the Clone War, he would be hired by Maul and his “Shadow Collective” as a sort of enforcer/assassin; and once the “Shadow Collective” fell apart and Maul solely focused on Crimson Dawns operations, Ghost would continue his services as a fixer and enforcer for Crimson Dawns operations. Ultimately selling his metaphorical soul and becoming more and more corrupted and morally compromised the longer he serves Maul, Qui’ra, and Crimson Dawn. (Kinda like Mike from the shows Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul)

Ghost is a highly skilled marksman, extremely clever, not afraid to speak his mind (especially towards his clients, even if one of them just so happens to be a powerful Sith Lord), sarcastic, brutally efficient, doesn’t like wasting his time being wasted nor working with amateurs or those that have an overly inflated opinion of themselves, extremely petty, he briefly tried to settle down and have a family but it didn’t work out (he and his wife divorced not long into their marriage, he doesn’t talk much to his ex wife or daughter afterwards, though once he discovers that he’s a grandfather, he tries to put in the effort to be decent grandfather to his granddaughter and begins setting some of his credits aside to give to his daughter and granddaughter if he were to be arrested or killed while working for Crimson Dawn)

I plan to get another commission or so done of him with a newer helmet, (I’m thinking about the one worn by the Clone Assassin in Bad Batch Season 2) some sort of Crimson Dawn decal or paint job to his armor, and to show off what he looks like under the helmet!

[Artwork done by Contextualthor on Instagram]

[momojedi]

— WATER GUNS: CHARACTER OVERVIEW ❝ i don't wanna have to play with real blood. ❞

**

type. character overview note. these are just some of the story's main cast, but I haven't fully developed the rest yet, so I decided to drop this now ! I'd be super happy to hear what you think! warnings. canon-typical violence

star wars masterlist

JEDI ORDER Mo Mynx Mo is a human Jedi originating from Coruscant who studied under Codral Imi before he was killed along with his present men from the 452nd legion in a crash on Abafar, leaving Mo the only survivor, helplessly waiting for someone to find him. Mo is later reassigned to train under Jedi Master Shaak Ti on Kamino. Weapon: double-bladed lightsaber, yellow Sari Su Sari is a pantoran Jedi with a cheerful personality and a bright smile. She has a thick accent based on her homeworld's dialect and sometimes stumbles over her words because of it. Sari is trained by the Jedi Master Taudna Sillem and is a great admirer of Senator Riyo Chuchi, having had the honour to meet her a few times already. Weapon: single-bladed lightsaber, purple Kimea Orneem Having the honour to be trained by the legendary Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kimea takes her job as a Jedi and Commander of the 212th very seriously, which often leaves her with a great headache when she sees her fellow padawan goofing around or taking things too lightly. Working with the 501st from time to time, the Aldeeranian gets along fairly well with fellow padawan Ahsoka Tano and enjoys spending time with her between missions, along with Cime Dafollah. Weapon: dual-wield lightsabers, cyan Atesa Nush Originating from Arkania, Atesa is one of the few younglings that still slightly remembers her family. Despite her duty and destiny as a Jedi, Atesa still deeply desires returning to Arkania to meet her family again. Studying under the Jedi Knight Knaspeer Lug, she usually works at the Archives in Coruscant and spends most of her time studying and reading. Weapon: single-bladed lightsaber, white Nurifi Egaserr Nicknamed "Nuri", Nurifi is a free spirit, often found daydreaming or following her own rules instead of decently listening to her master's orders, which often leads to her getting into trouble with the Council or being lectured by her master. Being one of the youngest padawans, Nurifi sometimes struggles with her feelings and emotions and is still learning how to properly deal with them. Nurifi is the padawan of Jedi Master Plo Koon and with that also the commander of the 104th about whom she tends to complain and wail to Atesa when they get together between missions. Weapon: single-bladed lightsaber, blue Cime Dafollah Soft-spoken and well-behaved, the beautiful Togruta is generally a rather quiet and sweet girl, leaving the people she meets all over the galaxy swooning over her. After having been put on sick leave for two months now, Cime usually helps out Master Yoda with the Younglings' training as well as babysitting the little ones in the nursery and overseeing their health and development. She usually joins Ahsoka Tano and Kimea Orneem when they stop by at the Temple, relishing in the exciting battlefield stories the two have to offer. She truly can't wait to join her master on missions again once she's recovered from the mysterious sickness. Weapon: double-bladed lightsaber, orange