#lasan series

[findswoman]

For the fic WIP ask game--I'm quite intrigued by the Honor Guard Ball story!

You got it! (Referring to this post!)

So, as you’ve probably guessed, it’s part of the Lasan Series and stars a young Zeb. This is his first time taking Shulma (OC) to the annual Honor Guard Ball. At the same time, however, his comrade Velibor (OC borrowed from @spacemomcreations ), who considers himself the Ashla’s gift to females, has been crimping Zeb’s style by bragging about his own (Velibor’s) surprise date, who turns out to be one of the royal princesses of Lasan. I have been stuck on trying to come up with some kind of humorous crisis that happens to everyone during the ball—preferably involving fruit, as I am trying to work in the two prompts “dance” and “fruit” from a challenge I opted into some years ago.

[smeraldo-heart]

Young Cal absolutely KILLS me.

He was with Master Tapal when the older spoke to Anakin, shortly after the latter became a Knight.

He is described as precocious 😭 because of how he rarely struggled, but he was also kind and generous. He couldn’t deal with failure and that was the whole reason why he was assigned to Master Tapal.

He froze when he saw a droideka out on the battlefield and his Master had to save him.

He was close with his clones, high-fived them and even had a rematch planned with one of them (which implied he regularly played games with them).

Master Tapal made him run drills of escaping through the maintenance shafts.

He trusted his Master until the end.

We need more fun so I’ve got little headcanons for him:

He didn’t like tea until Master Tapal got him drinking it. He more so enjoyed the comfort it brought and the memories of his Master than the actual experience but he still liked experimenting with the different flavours. His favourite is one of Master Tapal’s blends from Lasan.

This is precisely why he doesn’t like tea now. It reminds him of too much, but he’ll drink it for Greez if the other wants him to. The comfort the Latero brings reminds Cal of something he used to have.

He kept a collection of trinkets with good echoes around his room. One of them is the holocron he keeps near his bed.

His blanket was a lifeday gift from the battalion, handmade.

He was still scared of the dark even one year into his apprenticeship. A mission gone wrong where he was stranded on an unsafe ship and had to use the dark to hide in quickly cured him of this though.

He still had a soft toy to sleep with, even just before order 66. He often hid it in a secret compartment in his room because he felt like he should be over that attachment, but later future Cal still wishes he had it to bring him comfort.

He particularly liked adding beads and strings he found on missions to his braid, decorating it not only with accomplishments but also echoes from jobs well done.

He was incredibly flexible and also incredibly energetic. It was tough to get him to sit still, let alone not to race off and start climbing everything he saw. Master Tapal had to teach him not to run off very quickly into their apprenticeship, but he never quite cured him of the latter habit.

Another habit Cal was never cured of was his curiosity, leading him to sneak around exploring places a lot and touching echoes he really shouldn’t have.

He really didn’t like needles or medbays. He would never go near either on his apprenticeship, but this aversion was quickly cured on the uncaring planet Bracca.

He actually had to be told by Master Tapal to stop giving everything he owned as gifts to everyone on board since his quarters were becoming quite bare. Cal did so anyways because he liked giving gifts and making others happy.

He let the clones paint his face in the battalion’s colours once and refused to wash it off for hours.

He had to get a rabies shot one time because he insisted on helping an animal that ended up biting him. He doesn’t regret it for a second though.

He made a little scrapbook of all the clones, what their Force signatures looked like and their names so that he could remember who was who even with the helmets on. He knew exactly who shot at him and who died by his Master’s hands after order 66.

Idk man.. this guy. This tiny little guy. He makes me very sad.

Psst!! HEY! If you want more of this kind of mushy stuff about Padawan Cal, maybe you should check out my fanfic… it’s literally the escapades of Cal and his clones except with a little Diathim twist..

[tropes-and-tales]

Shadow and Light: Chapter Two

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC:  3853

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Slow-burn; plot-building; canon violence; minor injuries.

It was Mando’s own fault that he got hurt within seconds of landing the Crest on Arvala-7.

You had woken up in the co-pilot’s seat, nestled under your own cloak and a little sore from sleeping in an awkward angle.  Mando was in his pilot’s seat, and he gave a quarter turn and the barest of nods as you woke up by degrees.  You swiped a surreptitious hand over your mouth in case you’d been drooling.  Hoped you hadn’t been snoring too loudly or worse, talking in your sleep.

“Where are we?” you asked, and your voice was rough with sleep.

“Nearly there.”

You watched him a moment as he adjusted course.  “I’m going to go clean up a little,” you finally said, and Mando gave you that same curt nod. 

You made your way out of the cockpit (smiling at the squeal of the door on its track) and into the ship.  You had scouted it out quickly when you had crept on board back on Navarro, so you knew the basic layout.  The tiny berth where he likely slept, if Mandalorians slept at all.  The weapons locker, where your weapons were likely stashed.

You went into the refresher and slid the door shut behind you.  It was a cramped space, but there was a tiny mirror over the sink, and you winced at your own reflection.  There was a deep groove in your cheek from where your face had rested on the co-pilot’s seat as you slept.  Your hair was a mess. 

You did your business, then washed your hands, then undid your braids.  Finger-combed your hair and redid the braids, and hoped that you looked presentable.  Like a helpful partner and not a saboteur. 

If the Mandalorians had their creed, you had your own too.  You weren’t exactly sure what culture you came from, and you’d been raised by non-humans, so you had cobbled together your own sort of dogma.  You had a connection to Ashla, which some cultures called the Force, and your foster-mother had encouraged that gift.  It informed most of your rules, which weren’t really rules as much as a loose framework that you lived by.  Try to do no harm.  Try to tilt the balance of the galaxy a bit towards the good.

The only real rule you really followed was to always be mindful of the signs sent to you.  It would be easy to pretend you didn’t see – you could just settle down on some backwater planet, get a job as a mechanic, get a little house with a garden.  But your foster-mother had been certain that the galaxy had plans for you, and you tried to honor her.  Navarro had pulled you in like a magnet, and you soon found out why – that secret, guarded science facility.  You could sense the malevolence circling it like a storm.  It was not unlike the feeling you got all the time on Lasan as you grew up in the shadow of the dying Empire.

So when it came to Mando and this job?  You wouldn’t kill him, and you wouldn’t harm him…but if he tried to stop you from destroying the asset you both came to retrieve, you would have to incapacitate him somehow.  One way or another, that asset was not going to fall into the hands of that malignant client.

By the time you got back to the cockpit, the Razor Crest was approaching the dessert planet.  You sat down and buckled in, just in case the landing was bumpy.

 “How do you know where we’re going?” you asked.  “Which part of the planet, I mean?”  Despite your ulterior motives, you were curious about the technicalities of bounty hunting.

There was a beat of silence.  “I usually land outside of a settlement,” he finally offered.  “Close enough to walk, far enough to not draw too much attention.  Get intel, then go from there.”

You watched him as he piloted the ship over some mountains until he found a valley.  He circled around, his hands moving over the controls in a series of smooth motions.  The Crest settled onto the planet with a slight jostle that, if you weren’t mistaken, was due to one of the landing skis engaging a second later than the others.

Mando stood up and hesitated a split second before striding past you, and you followed him down the ladder into the cargo hold.  You stood back and watched him unlock his weapons cache.  He armed himself and then locked it again.

“Can I get my rifle?” you asked.  You still had the vibro-knife he hadn’t found when he searched you the night before, but that was barely a weapon.

Mando only shook his head and informed you that he didn’t trust you yet.  Fair enough.

So you watched him stride down the gangway, scan the horizon with his tracking fob…and you watched him get mauled by the leathery grey beast that bore down on him from out of nowhere.

You frantically looked around the Crest and found a loose wrench by the carbonite chamber, and you sprinted out to help.  You got there in time to find Mando on his back, his arm trapped in the mouth of the dead beast.  Another dead one lay a few feet away.  You looked closer…no, not dead.  You could see the tranquilizer darts sticking out of their hides, and a distance away, a rider mounted on a third beast, his dart gun still in hand.

You walked over to where the Mandalorian lay on his back, his breath a little ragged through his helmet from his skirmish.  You brandished the wrench at him.

“I can’t help with just this,” you told him, and he only answered with a huff.

“C’mon,” you said.  You extended a hand that he looked at for a beat, then took it with another huff.  You helped haul him up and resisted the urge to knock some of the dust off of his armor.  “There’s a local who wants to make our acquaintance, I think.”

*****

Mando wasn’t used to working with a partner, so after he rested and returned to the cockpit to begin the approach to the planet, he was startled to see you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat.  You didn’t wake as he carefully stepped past you, and you were curled up like a lothcat under your cloak.

He frowned under his helmet.  He hadn’t forgotten you were there, exactly, but he wasn’t as on-guard as he usually was.  When he worked with Ran and his crew of mercenaries, he was always on guard.  Jumpy, even.  Distrustful and nearly paranoid.  He should have felt the same about you – you’d stowed yourself away on his ship, for Maker’s sake, and you had nearly held him at rifle-point.  But you’d been mild as anything as he disarmed you.  Calm, collected – and not like the practiced calm he could exude when needed.  It seemed to radiate from some deep place in you.

You were calm when he refused to return your weapons to you.  You were calm and bemused as you helped him stand after he was attacked by the squat leathery creatures, the blurrgs.

He relented only a moment later and retrieved your bo-rifle from the weapons locker, and he tried to ignore the smile you were obviously biting back when you took it from him.

The local turned out to be an Ugnaught named Kulil, and you and Mando followed him back to his moisture farm.  Kulil gave his insight into the encampment that was causing strife on the once-peaceful planet.

“Many have passed through,” he told the two of you.  “They seek the same one as you.”

So you hadn’t been lying about that bit of intel you had offered.  The asset was dangerous, guarded by dangerous people.  Mando caught you watching him, and you gave him a nod as if to say, told you so.

The Ugnaught agreed to help guide you both to the encampment in exchange for the blurrgs, and then in the next breath, he informed you that said blurrgs would need to be tamed and ridden to the encampment.  Maybe you couldn’t see under his helmet, but you still looked at Mando and must have sensed his discomfort, because you burst into a gale of laughter.  Then you stood up and followed Kulil to the blurrg enclosure with obvious excitement.

Great.

*****

Your foster-mother always told you to try and do things the easy way, and that lesson had taken a while to sink in.  You’d spent most of your adolescence frustrated and angry as you tried to do everything the hardest way possible.  But you’d eventually learned.

Mando apparently never got that lesson.

You and Kulil stood side by side against the fence and watched the armored man get tossed, trampled, and otherwise mangled by the ornery blurrg.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet,” Kulil offered helpfully.

“Perhaps he remembered I tried to roast him,” Mando bit back.

“This is a female.  The males are eaten during mating.”

You snorted at that as Mando marched over to you. 

“We don’t have time for this,” he told Kulil.  “Do you have a landspeeder I can hire?”

You didn’t wait to hear the answer.  You pulled off your cloak and hung it over the fence, then ducked under the rail to stand beside Mando in the enclosure.  “Come on,” you told him.  “You’re just approaching her wrong.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his reply, making his voice staticky through the modulator of his helmet.  “Oh, so you can rebuild engines and ride blurrgs?  Any other skills you failed to mention?”

“I have many talents,” you said in mock seriousness as you both approached the blurrg.  She eyed you each suspiciously, but she had an especially wary eye for Mando.  “But you need to be gentle.  Like this.”

You demonstrated by reaching a careful hand out to the creature, letting her sniff your palm at her own pace.  Then you laid your hand on its head, stroking the rough skin between the wide-set eyes.  The blurrg gave a growl, but it was a low rumble of contentment.  You turned and looked at Mando.  His helmet was tilted a bit as he watched you.

“See?  Gentle.  No need to overpower.”

“Gentle rarely works in bounty hunting.”

You grasped the rope around the blurrg’s thick neck and swung up onto her back in a smooth motion.  She snorted and growled…but let you keep your seat.  You looked down and couldn’t, obviously, make out Mando’s expression behind his beskar helmet.  You imagined him rolling his eyes in irritation – but you were wrong.  He was studying you closer while pointedly ignore the growing spark of feeling that made him study you at all.

*****

Once properly mounted, the three of you rode across the harsh landscape towards the encampment.  When Kulil showed you the encampment and then left, you followed Mando carefully, laying low on the ridge beside him and watching him as he surveyed the situation.  Theoretically, he was supposed to be teaching you the trade, so he cleared his throat and offered some insight into what he was seeing.

“Nikto guards,” he told you.  “Not sure how many, but a lot.  They are tough fighters.”  He turned and looked you over.  You were in your dun-colored cloak, and he could see the outline of the rifle on your back.  He certainly didn’t trust you fully, but you hadn’t done anything to disabuse him of the little trust he did have for you now.  And you had helped him tame the blurrg in record time.

“How good a shot are you at a distance?” he asked.  You gazed at him, and while he knew you couldn’t see his eyes, it felt almost like you could see him.  You had looked at him like that on the Crest when he first captured you, and you had looked at him like that again when you had tamed the blurrg.  It made his stomach dip curiously.

“I’m good,” you finally answered.  “I was raised in the mountain ranges of Lasan, and we went on missions to snipe imps all the time.”

“Good.”  He scanned the surroundings and then pointed at a nearby ridge.  “You’re good at sneaking around.  Do you think you can get to that ridge over there and cover me when the firing starts?”

You shifted a little and leaned closer to him as you followed his pointing, and Mando felt that churn to his stomach again when your shoulder brushed against him.  “That one?  Yes, I can get there.  Give me, say, ten minutes?”

“Good,” he repeated.  “Don’t fire until I start, and try to take out their snipers first.  I can handle the close range Niktos.”

You nodded and crawled away, and he was only able to watch you for a moment before he lost you in the shifting landscape of browns and reds.  You were good.

And then an IG-11 unit marched onto the scene, and Mando forgot about you for a moment or two.

*****

The shooting started before you were set up, but when you took a prone position and sighted your rifle, you saw that it was a droid – an IG unit, you guessed – that was drawing most of the fire from the guards.  Then Mando arrived on the scene, and you followed his directions.  One by one, you picked off the Nikto guards and snipers that popped up on the roof and parapets of the fortress.

It was almost too easy.  They were so focused on Mando and the droid, they never even looked up at the ridge where you lay.  Which was good, as far as you were concerned:  the moment Kulil showed you the encampment, you felt a strange feeling creep over you.  It was the same feeling when you channeled Ashla, and it got stronger and stronger as you holstered your rifle and made your way to the door of the compound to join Mando and the IG unit.

That feeling?  It had to be a sign.  You were on the right path, and you had to destroy the asset before it fell into the hands of that scientist.

But when you got to Mando, he was already talking to the droid.  The Mandalorian held up the beeping tracking fob and the IG remarked that there was a life form present.

“Another Nikto?” you asked, and Mando gave you that short, curt shake of his head that he did.

“The bounty,” he replied.

You shook your own head now.  “No, I thought…”  You trailed off, tried to form your thoughts.  “I thought we were tracking an asset.  A weapon.  A thing.”

Now Mando tilted his head, and you swore you heard amusement through his helmet.  “Bounty hunting usually entails the living,” he said.  “Whether we bring them in warm or cold depends on the job.”

You felt the blood rising in your cheeks and shook your head again.  “No, I know that.  I just…this was off the books.  The man who hired you…”  You gazed at Mando, at the slit in his helmet where you figured his eyes were.  “Didn’t he hire you to bring him a weapon?  They kept calling it an ‘asset’ in the cantina.”

He didn’t answer.  The IG unit did it’s jerky, mechanical march inside the compound, and Mando followed.  You followed too, your mind racing.  You had expected a piece of some weapon, some component for the Empire to rebuild, some piece of a new weapon to exterminate entire worlds, entire species…

It was a living creature.  No, a child.  The egg-shaped container opened to reveal a green creature with huge ears and black eyes, and the feeling that had been growing all afternoon hit you so hard that you gasped.  Whatever the creature was, it was linked somehow to Ashla, or the Force.

Not a weapon at all.  A child.

Everything after that realization happened in slow motion:  the droid raising its blaster, Mando replying, you shouting and reaching across Mando’s armored chest to try and knock the blaster out of the IG’s grip.  The IG hitting you, not hard enough to kill or seriously injure, but hard enough to make your ears ring.  You on the ground, stunned by the blow, hearing the blaster shot.  You, looking up in shock when the IG unit fell to the ground beside you, destroyed. 

Mando, holding his own blaster as it smoked in the half-light of the room.

And Mando, looking down at you for a moment before extending his hand to help you up.  And once you were back on your feet, his hand on your shoulder just a beat longer than necessary as he asked if you were okay.

*****

Mandalorians were notoriously distrustful.  Mando definitely did not trust you.

He would begrudgingly admit that you were a good partner during this job.  You took out a shocking number of Nikto guards and had half-trotted, half-slid down the loose scree of the hillside afterwards like it was nothing at all.  Your confusion over the bounty was charmingly naïve, but he supposed he understood – the job was off the books and no exactly straightforward.

Afterwards, as the two of you walked with the floating crib, you had been ambushed by other bounty hunters.  You had proven yourself there too, fighting with your weapon as an electrostaff.  You moved gracefully, like a dancer, without a wasted movement. 

And that evening, over the campfire, you proved yourself a different way.

Mando had been injured in the ambush, and the gash in his arm wept blood steadily enough to need attention.  It was his dominant arm, and he fumbled with his cauterizer.  Dropped it.  Picked it up.  Dropped it again with a muttered curse in Mando’a.  You watched him a moment across the dancing flames of the fire, and then offered to help.

“I can do it,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain.  It was a deep cut into the muscle, and he could only go a fraction at a time with the cauterizer before he had to stop and catch his breath from the searing hurt.

He could feel those eyes of yours on him, those big doe-eyes that seemed so expressive and seemed to see through his beskar helmet.  You didn’t reply though – you just stood up and made your way over to him, and you sat down beside him.

“Let me help,” you said.  “I have a gift for healing.”

Mando snorted, but he dropped the cauterizer again with his clumsy hand.  “Fine,” he said.

You didn’t pick up the tool.  You stood back up and retrieved your bo-rifle, and you stopped a moment to scoop the escaping child back into the crib.  Then you settled back to kneel beside Mando.

“This,” you said, holding out your weapon, “is for close-range and long-range attacks.  Electrostaff and rifle.”

“So are you going to shoot me or electrocute me?”

You smiled at him, and Mando felt that curious dip in his gut again.  “Most people don’t realize that there’s a third setting.”  Mando watched as you undid a strap, clicked the pieces of the weapon until it resembled a trident.  “This setting isn’t a weapon.  It’s a….conduit.  For channeling.”

“Channeling what?”

You bit down on your lower lip as you pondered your answer.  “It has a lot of names.  Life Current.  Life Wind.  The Force.  On Lasan, we called it ‘Ashla.’”

Mando had heard stories about that magical nonsense – fairy stories to tell children, as far as he was concerned.  But you seemed so earnest that he gave a single nod, and you continued.

“I can…do things with it,” you said.  You were halting, and even in the firelight, he could make out your blushing face.  “When I use the trident, I can sometimes…see things.  From the past.  From possible futures.  That’s usually how I use it, so I know what to do, where to go.  Which path to follow.”  You glanced up at him now.  “But I can also heal with it.”

“Okay.”  He didn’t believe it for a moment, but you had helped him at both the encampment and in the ambush.  He owed you a modicum of belief, he figured, and when it invariably failed, he could use the cauterizer.

You nodded, but then the flush on your face deepened.  “I’d have to, uh, touch you.  I know Mandalorians don’t like that….”

You were right.  But something made him mutter “okay” again, which made you nod again, and then you powered on the trident.

Mando wasn’t a believer of anything but the Way, the Creed, the rigid set of rules that controlled his lonely life.  In the following days, he’d question what he saw – and felt – in this moment.  But right now, the trident sparked a steady stream of blue electrocurrent between its points, and a lovely blue aura was cast over you and him.  It made him feel that same calm you seemed to exude.  You closed your eyes, squeezed them tight as you concentrated.  One hand held the trident steady, and the other reached out, unseeing, to hover over the deep gash in his arm.

“Is this okay?” you asked, and your voice sounded a quarter-octave lower.  More assured, too. 

“Yes,” he replied, and you laid your hand on him.

When was the last time he’d been touched?  When had he last felt someone else’s skin against his own?  Your hand was warm, and he flinched at first…but then pressed his arm against your touch a little firmer.  Greedy, almost, for the sudden contact, like a desert soaking up rain for the first time in years. 

Under your warm hand, Mando could feel….whatever it was.  Working.  He could feel the muscle knitting itself together, the slashed veins, and then the skin.  It was warm too, and he felt contentment wash over him as you touched him.

All too soon, it was over.  You pulled your hand away and turned the trident off.  Opened your eyes and sagged backwards a little.  Mando flexed his hand and twisted his arm to look at it in the fire light.  The skin was unbroken, smooth.  There wasn’t even a scar.

The mostly-silent man had a million questions, but when he turned to ask you some of them, he saw that the healing came at a price:  you were slumped in your kneeling position, and your trident was slipping from your hand. 

Mando reached out and caught it.  Then he reached out and caught you.

You weren’t unconscious though.  You braced yourself as he eased you onto the ground, and you sighed your thanks as he removed his cloak to fold it and place it under your head.  He arranged your own cloak around you and watched as your eyelids grew too heavy for you to fight any longer. 

Then he watched you sleep for a long, long while, and he only noticed the child watching too when it made a cooing noise at you.  Mando could have sworn it sounded sympathetic.

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

For the wip game pretty please:

I Care About You/Cared For

Come Back Home

Heart Of A Rebel

Yessss thank you, here we go!

I Care About You / Cared For

Set quite soon in my Kalluzeb series (according to the current chronology there are only two parts in between this and the last one I published), this story features Zeb falling ill and Kallus, noticing his absence, looking him up and looking after him. It has two titles because it's gonna be two parts: I started it from Kallus's perspective but then found myself figuring out Zeb's so often that I ended up mapping that into a full companion story as well.

I don't have any of the prose written yet, so here is a snippet of the scripts of each:

.

Come Back Home

A little further down the line, this takes place shortly after the events of A New Hope and has Kallus decide to re-infiltrate the Empire as Fulcrum because he was most useful to the Rebellion like that. He does well, shooting through the ranks of the Imperial military and in the meantime securing amazing feats for the Rebellion, but he finds out that he isn't as Imperial as he thought anymore, the way the Empire works deeply sickening him.

Once again here is part of the script for lack of actual prose:

Heart Of A Rebel

This is my Kallus prequel, detailing his life from when he was sent to the Republic Children's Military Academy at the age of four up to his adventure on Bahryn with Zeb that changed everything. The first chapter of this, set in the time of the Republic, is already published, but I have three more mapped out, about his time at the Imperial Academy and mission to Onderon, the mission to Lasan, and his work at the ISB.

Here's a snippet from the second chapter:

And that's them!

[martianbugsbunny]

Rainbow Mists In Which He Stands (A Kalluzeb Fic)

Had to do something short and sweet for these guys, I'm being consumed by them. I haven't decided yet if I might expand this into a three-part series, with this one, a Kanera one, and a Sabezra one (which, fair warning, would probably be platonic bc I have complicated feelings about them being a couple). The point is, this is a delightful little break for Kalluzeb and they're having a nice time together. IN case you were wondering, the title is another Wayne Visser reference; that part of the poem kinda melted and gooified together in my brain like crayons left in the sun with that art @kappamelone did of trans kallus a little while ago to create my favorite scene in here (which will be terribly obvious when you see it). Read on and enjoy!

The crew of the Ghost had been offered (ordered) shore leave for a few days after a stunning misadventure involving Chopper, a bag of explosives, and a remarkable inability to count. Kanan said it was because their nerves were all stripped after that; Hera muttered about being put in time-out and kicked a couple of crates.

Zeb, like Ezra and Sabine, didn’t really care why they had been sent away to a remote moon for a bit of quiet time. He joined them in making excited plans about how to make the most of it, especially after learning that Kallus had been commanded to go with them.

“They want me to keep an eye on you,” he said, then a little more irately, “I’m pretty sure Rebel Command is as sick of me as they are of you.” Having been recruited into the Rebellion by the Specters, he had picked up their annoying habits of rarely listening to orders in the way in which they were intended.

But once again, Zeb didn’t care why Kallus had been packed up and shipped off with the Ghost’s crew, and he convinced Kallus to stop caring at least until they got back from leave. Then he could be annoyed about it all he liked.

The minute they landed, Ezra and Sabine raced out of the Ghost, shoving each other to the side, to take in the view. The planet was warm, covered in tall trees with vines hanging from the branches and brightly colored spiky flowers. Zeb had never seen another planet quite like it; the kids probably hadn’t, either.

Kanan and Zeb sat down together on the ramp, while Hera went through her post-flight checks and powered down the ship. “I used to go camping with the other Honor Guards,” Zeb said. He was still a little bit surprised, himself, every time he mentioned his life on Lasan. It seemed to happen more frequently these days; he wondered if maybe letting go of his pain enough to make room in his life for Kallus had helped him be more at peace with it in general. “I could show the kids how to set up tents.”

Kanan smiled, his head tilted towards where Sabine was gushing over how good the spiky flowers would be as pigments for her paints. “They’d get a real kick out of that,” he said. “You’ll probably have to drag Hera off the Ghost by her ankles, though.”

“What about my ankles?” Hera sat down between them, leaning against Kanan’s arm. “I guess—to spare you boys the effort—I could be convinced to spend the night outside. Sleeping among the stars is one thing, but there’s something special about sleeping under them, too.”

Kanan’s grin grew wider, and he kissed the side of Hera’s head. “You old romantic,” he teased.

Zeb rolled his eyes, standing up to stretch. “I’ll get the tents,” he said. Let those two have their moment. He went back into the Ghost and hefted the top off of a storage crate that he’d stuffed a couple of tents into before leaving the base. He’d only been able to find three; he expected Sabine and Hera would probably share a tent and leave Ezra and Kanan to commune with the new planet’s nature in that Jedi way of theirs—and of course he and Kallus would bunk together.

Speaking of Kallus, where had he gotten off to? He was prone to sort of drifting off while everyone else was busy, and half the time he neglected to even mention to Zeb where he was going. It was hard for him, Zeb thought, when he was with the Spectres; they had been a family unit when he met them, and he hadn’t figured out how to integrate into it just yet.

Zeb stopped to set down the tents outside before following the path that Kallus’s boots had left in the soft grass. Ezra and Sabine had stopped their frenzied exploration to lay back on the ground for a minute, and he gently nudged Sabine’s shoulder with his foot as he passed. It was good for them to enjoy themselves. They didn’t get to be kids often enough.

He didn’t mind getting the time to relax himself. He didn’t really care how long it would take him to catch up to Kallus, with fresh, greenery-scented air to breathe and nothing to distract him from appreciating the scenery. There were certain bright orange flowers that reminded him of ones that grew on Lasan, and soft white ones that looked like the drifts of snow on Bahryn.

Zeb finally stopped when he saw the waterfall up ahead. It was one of the most stunning views he’d ever seen.

Standing at the very edge of the fall, feet submerged in the pool it created, was Kallus, shirt, jacket, and boots discarded on a nearby rock, his head tilted back ever-so-slightly and his damp hair clinging to his face and neck. Where the water spilled across his freckled shoulders, it shifted and shimmered in the light, the mist forming a rainbow in the air like a cape.

There was that feeling Zeb was still trying to get used to: looking at Kallus and being sure that his heart was going to beat against his lungs so hard he would pass out, like there wasn’t enough room for love and oxygen in him at the same time and his body would rather go without the oxygen. It was easy to say he had never been in love with anyone the way he had fallen for Kallus. He wondered sometimes at the designs of the Ashla, but he was certain it had guided them towards each other, softening each of them in turn to make what they had now possible.

Zeb released a sigh and walked across the clearing to stand at the edge of the pool. “Enjoying nature all by yourself, handsome?” he teased. Kallus’s face instantly broke into a wide, unguarded smile, such that Zeb only ever saw when they were alone together, his amber eyes lighting like sparks from a flint. There weren’t many lines by those eyes yet; like Zeb, Kallus had spent more of his life frowning or scowling than he had smiling, but he was making some progress. A few of the worry lines, at least, seemed to have become less pronounced, now that Kallus was a little bit less tense than he had been as an Imperial agent.

“I don’t have to be,” Kallus said. Zeb stepped into the shallow water and waded over to Kallus, ripples fanning out around his legs as he walked.

Zeb cupped his hands around Kallus’s upper ribcage, thumbs covering the beautiful twin scars beneath his pectorals. The lines were thick and pale, mostly even; only jagged at the edges. “Have I ever told you how much I like these?” he asked, leaning his forehead against Kallus’s.

“Every time you see me with my shirt off,” Kallus answered, resting his hands on Zeb’s forearms.

“Which isn’t often enough for my taste,” Zeb said. Kallus laughed (Ashla, did Zeb love that deep, hoarse laugh), fingers playing across a set of dark purple stripes that were a little bit darker still than the others on Zeb’s body.

“How long do you think we have before they miss us?” Kallus asked. His face was flushed from sun—it made the freckles on his face seem just a little bit more vivid by contrast.

“A half hour before the kids hunt me down to set up the tents.”

Kallus smiled at him, more softly than before, but with just as much earnestness. “Ever the family man, aren’t you, Garazeb.”

Then he put his arms around Zeb’s neck and kissed him, and there was nothing on the planet except the two of them and the stones beneath their feet and the mists spilling across their shoulders, and for just a moment nothing could ever be wrong again.

[not0a0mundane]

thanks you @lost-in-derry for the tag to this!!

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (I have a LONG WIP folder so for the sake of clarity I'm going to make them about the ones that have their own discord channel)

The Sith Queen - basically Padmé saves Darth Maul at the end of TPM and their friendship blooms from there (got the first part finished but the actual sith training motage is not written yet, I do got memes tho)

Little Sith Ani - this is an ongoing wip as it is a series and it's basically "what if Anakin was always a sith" with the twist that he was mostly raised by Darth Maul. Currently has 5 installments and I plan for more when I get back to it.

Jabba's Jewel - Palpatine loses Darth Maul in a bet with Jabba the Hutt. Jabba fakes Maul's death and has a shiny new assasin/exotic dancer. I haven't got any writing yet but I do have memes

Caught in his golden gaze - an emotionally neglected rich coruscant sociolite is stuck in a loveless marriage when a handsome bachelor in the form of the newest representative for Naboo, the war hero Jar Jar Binks. (Will try to keep it as GN!REader as possible)

Ashla Au - got like 2 chapters done, basically kallus realised the atrocity he commited on lasan and the goddess Ashla saw that and decided "you will earn your forgivness".

The Bogling au - nearly same vein as the ashla au, but Kallus had always been in association with the lasat pantheon. (basically kallus is a no-domain deity, get's put into a tiny mortal body and has to find a domain that he can become the god of so that he can return home)(still in the working things through phase, based on greek mythology reimagined into a star wars setting)

Bonus!

OSHA!Inspector Maul Au - a silly little idea where Palpatine takes Smaul(Small Maul) with him to see the cloning facilities on Kamino and then forgets Maul there. When he remembers that he as an apprentice some time later, Maul has already become an intern in the Kamino cloning facility. They refuse to acknowledge that Palpatine even came into their facility with a dathomirian zabrak child in tow.

tagging: @seth-silver-ink @hannagoldworthy @sapphic-loser16 @astralalmighty @gran-maul-seizure and anyone else that wants to try!

[murielles-crowsnest]

More Kallus and Zeb thoughts

I said I would. And I did. Me blurting out more of my thoughts on Kallus and Zeb under the tooka.

Alrighty, I am going to start this one off with Kallus, because that one is relatively simple and straight forward. I was reading Promises You’ll Only Make by the esteemed WantonWhale (chapter 74 to be precise) where.. well, not to be too spoilery, but we get a scene with a child Kallus. Got me thinking about a wee bab Alex and this happened. This is NOT exactly what appears in the chapter, no worries there. This is more an... extrapolation of a version of a young Kallus.

I am not adverse to a street rat Kallus. I enjoy that take too. But the idea of a little, resting pout face, mildly non-verbal ~5-6 year old upper-middle to high class boy dressed in horrible stuffy suits who is very good at standing still because he wants to be a good boy? MY HEART. Also, I see him obsessed but very careful and gentle whenever he encounters a live plant, growing up on Corsucant and not seeing them often. For Zeb.... nothing really birthed this idea in the same way, more that I was thinking about what he was like before Lasan fell. So it’s time to over-think things! Something about Zeb’s sometimes... childishness makes me wonder how this guy was the youngest Captain of the Honor Guard in a century (or whatever), and then it dawned on me. What if this is a kind of regressing or rejection of the serious-minded lasat he used to be? He is rejecting responsibilities because he fears he will fail. Naturally, this changes over the course of the series a bit, especially after he finds the way to Lira San. Just LOOK at his change in posture when he leads them there. That is Garazeb Orrelios, Captain of the Honor Guard. So I wanted to think about that guy. He must have been top of his class right? Maybe he was very serious about his job. Maybe he took himself very seriously. Maybe he was uptight and tidy and... a lot like Imperial Kallus. Suddenly, boom. I got this Zeb, with incredibly kept facial hair you could cut yourself on. Cocky. Arrogant, even. Completely sure that he will never fail at what he does and what he intends to do, and only proven disastrously wrong (through no fault of his own) at the Fall of Lasan.

I really like the idea that this is part of the reason Zeb ends up befriending and eventually deeply caring for Kallus. He sees every bit of himself reflected in this guy. The Honor Guard!Zeb and Imperial!Kallus doing their best for their ideals. Both are in charge of a group, feel responsible for the outcome. Both are taken out of action by a bomb and fail to protect what they uphold. Both of them have everything they have ever believed about themselves shaken to the very core. Then this is where Zeb sees the difference between the two of them: in the fact that Kallus did not run from it when Zeb did. Kallus immediately began to try and fix things, while Zeb struggled to come to terms with it, as we see when he talks to Ezra in Legends of the Lasat. Zeb understands Kallus’s struggle with self-loathing and responsibility for horrible events, but admires how he owns up and faces it. That’s why at some point, even if you don’t ship it or think Kallus deserves it, Zeb brings him to Lira San and is able to forgive. Forgiveness is not about what Kallus is or does, but the choice, grace, and understanding of Zeb and those aligned with him (Spectres, Rebellion, Lasat). I’m kinda out of time, so I know I am missing bits in this particular monologue. I’ll edit in if I remember later. Ok, I think I got it all finished up and fixed a few points/wording. Thanks for listening to the ramble.

[kitkatt0430]

3, 6, 13 [Paradigm Shift] and 17 [A Little Fair Weather] for the fanfic ask game!

3.) What are you planning on working on next?

I want to get back into my Arrow re-write and cover another couple of episodes. I'm also working on a Star Wars: Rebels AU fic where Kallus has been rebelling against the Empire in his own way in the two ish years since the Siege of Lasan, significantly altering how he interacts with everyone - especially the crew of the Ghost - as the events of the show play out.

I'd also like to write something for one of my existing series that I haven't touched in a while, but I'm not sure which one will grab me yet.

6.) Who is the easiest character to write?

Hartley's actually pretty easy for me to write, so it's a good thing I like his character so much. He's very different from me, but at the same time I feel like I understand where he comes from really well. I also like that he's got a lot of room for personal growth, which gives me a lot of space for playing with different character arcs for him. So I guess that makes him kind of malleable from a writer standpoint.

13.) What songs make you think of Paradigm Shift? 

I feel like Rob Thomas' Someday is a good fit for the fic.

You can go You can start all over again You can try to find a way to make another day go by You can hide Hold all your feelings inside You can try to carry on when all you wanna do is cry

And maybe, someday we'll figure all this out Try to put an end to all our doubt Try to find a way to make things better now that Maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud We'll be better off somehow, someday

17.) Talk about something you like less in A Little Fair Weather.

So something I like but perhaps not the most?

While I like that the fic has Barry trying to move on from his feelings for Iris, I actually wish she was in there more. If nothing else to show, instead of tell, the differing places the two of them are at emotionally in their relationship.

For Barry, confessing his feelings and being rejected the night of the accelerator explosion is still pretty raw to him. But for Iris, it's something she worked through - including the guilt that she couldn't return his feelings and that was basically their last real conversation before he was struck by lightning - over the time Barry was in his coma.

I don't regret that the main focus was on Barry and Mark, since it's very much their fic, but it might have helped with establishing Barry's own headspace better. It's definitely something I'll be including in the sequel whenever it finally gets written, though Barry's going to be further along in getting over her now that he's got Mark - and Joss - in his life.

[mystical-salamander]

A day late, but hey! I got it finished!

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios 

Characters: Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Chava (Star Wars), Alexsandr Kallus 

Additional Tags: Guilt, Grief/Mourning, Loss, the romance is not really the focus but its there, Happy Ending 

Series: Part 4 of Salamander's ZAW 2023

Summary: Zeb struggles with his feelings towards Lira San and the loss of his homeworld, Lasan.

Zeb Appreciation Week Day 6: Lasan/Lira San

@zebappreciationweek

[findswoman]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thanks so much for the ask! 🙂 My answers are going to be very similar to those from the last time I got this ask (here’s the link): namely, this is always a hard question for me because I really do love and am proud of every story I write, but I am especially proud of my two main large-scale epics/series, The Book of Gand and The Lasan Series, because of all the time and effort they took (and still are taking).

To get the number up to five, I’d like to also mention three series of miscellaneous, unconnected short stories, featuring various characters and genres, that I wrote for the Kessel Run Challenge held each year for the last three years at TheForce.net’s Fanfic forum, hosted by the excellent ViariSkywalker.. This is one of those challenges where writers have to write for a new prompt each week for ten weeks, but also have a large-scale prompt for a longer story that they have to complete within twelve weeks. Viari’s prompts are tough, so I am very proud of the work I did for her challenge—and particularly for the long stories I wrote for each, which turned out to be about my Rose Evergreen crew and have fleshed them out a great deal. Here they are:

Rose’s Eleven (2022); long story, The Rose between the Worlds (5+1)

Rose Garden, Evergreen Forest (2023); long story, T Minus Rose (Note: This series was the first thing I wrote after the death of my father in November 2022 and contributed a lot to the healing process. It is dedicated to his memory.)

Purple, Rose, and Gold (2024); long story, In You the Roses Speak (epistolary)

And now, to send some PMs! 😁 Thanks again to Eddie for thinking of me for this game. 💜

[wild-karrde]

I’d like to submit my wonderful friend @findswoman’s work! Her masterlist is here. She specializes in writing OCs, the Ghost crew, and Zuckuss. Her main WIP is The Book of Gand, an origin story for Zuckuss.

HECK YES! I am all in on anything Rebels-related (I need to see my live-action found-family like yesterday), but I'm going to out myself as someone that had to Google who Zuckuss was (I'M SORRY, MY STAR WARS DEGREE IS NOT IN BOUNTY HUNTERS. I'M DOING MY BEST), but now I can say I am QUITE INTRIGUED. I do really love learning more about the different background bounty hunters (my husband is all about IG-88, so that may have started with him). Also, I am staring at that Lasan series with GREAT interest. This is such a cool and unique set of recs! Thanks so much for sending it in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[midnightcreator12]

Hi midnightcreator. I saw your post about friends week OC-tober. Assuming there's still spots open can I offer this quote/prompt? "My mother always said you should dance with your worst enemy at least once before you kill them. So 'hero', how's your footwork?"

Sorry this took a hot minute, lotta stuff happened back to back and...well, I wasn't sure what to do with the prompt for awhile

Shout out to @posthocpaganda for helping me with that, gave me an awesome idea that I have cut a little short for this but might lengthen it and add it to the one-shot series at a later date.

Also I wasn't going to do a title but I had to tilt it in word for easy finding and.....it was funny

The Enemy of My Enemy is Still My Enemy But They’re Low Priority Now

Mando'a Translations for this:

Shab, shabbing - fuck, fucking

Buir - parent (father in this case)

She’d been dumb. Chula could fully admit to herself that taunting a Trandoshan was a very dumb move on her part. And missing his buddy with the supped up stun rifle was an even dumber misstep.

But she was fine with that. Even when she woke up to the tell-tale headache from someone actually using a poison to subdue her. She’d, of course, been stripped of almost all her gear except her armor. She’d growled at that, missing the weight of her slug-thrower, but she couldn’t do much until the Trandoahan ship dumped her on whatever island had been chosen for their hunt.

The headache and shaky limbs dissipated moments before the steady rumble of the ship stalled and changed. Chula’s sharp ears knew the moment before she was dropped right at where the water met the island, a thick jungle that was nearly pitch black even with a full moon. She took off running the moment her feet hit the ground. Trandoshans were a race she had studied quite a bit and she knew they tended to gun down ‘prey’ that didn’t take advantage of their head start.

She spent a number of hours trying to puzzle together some kind of plan. If she wanted to get off planet, she’d have to get back on the ship that brought her here and to do that….she’d have to fight a lot of Trandoshans.

She didn’t fear the reptilian race but she was arrogant enough to assume her size and strength would give her a big enough advantage when it came from getting from the land to the ship.

By the time the sun rose and the hunt parties had entered the forest, Chula had a very rough Plan A. She could turn the tables a bit, stalk the hunters and try and get ahold of one of the smaller transports.

But, hours later, her Plan A wasn't going great, mostly because all the lizard-brains had left their shuttles gods-know where and were sneaking around on foot in an attempt to sneak up on their targets. It would have been a good plan if they were after most Mandalorians…just not a Mandalorian who had spent a decent amount of her youth tree jumping on Lasan.

Prime example, the scrawny Trandoshan that had been slinking around the trunks of trees, rifle raised and primed. And Chula followed above him, claws silent as they dug into the bark of the stea=rdy tree limbs. She was hoping he would circle to one of the transports or let something slip….she didn’t know what but he was the third guy she’d started following and she was getting impatient.

She tensed when the Trandoshan stilled, head tipping to the side. There was no way he had heard her but….if he had, she hoped there was more in the hunting party.

The rifle suddenly flashed and the Trandoshan let out a throaty squawl as he charged into the brush where he’d shot.

Chula’s eyes narrowed. The only reason he would have shot was if he saw a target.

Which meant that she wasn’t the only unwilling participant on the island.

Chula launched from her perch to the next tree branch, covering the distance between her and the hunter in moments before dropping on top of the Trandoshan. He yowled in pain as Chula slammed onto him but the cry was cut short when her claws closed around his neck and snapped the spinal cord.

She looked up from the body, scanning for the person that he’d been shooting at.

But when her eyes found them, she froze.

And for a moment, she saw red.

Of all the places. Of every deity-damned place in the entire shabbing GALAXY, somehow, she was here too.

“Are you shabbin’ with me right now?!”

“Nice to see you too,” Bo-Katan shabbing Kryze muttered back from where she sat, cradling her side where a new blaster burn marred her flightsuit.

Chula stood, a growl building in her chest as she glared down at Kryze, “What the shab are you doin’ here?”

“Look who’s talking,” Bo-Katan hissed back. Her helmet tipped in a very purposeful scan up and down Chula “See you’ve had a growth spurt.”

“Answer my shabbin’ question Kryze!”

Kryze sighed, that stupid, long suffering one that she did when she felt she was being wrongfully blamed.

Chula used to answer with sympathetic hums. Now, she just growled louder.

“I got sloppy, got snatched, along with a few rookies. Been here for, oh, three days now,” Kryze replied. “‘Bout time one of them got a lucky shot.”

Chula huffed, looking around them, “And where are these ‘rookies’, hm?”

“And this point? Mounted on some Trandoshans wall.”

Chula’s snarl grew even louder as she stormed over to Kryze, reaching down with one massive hand to snatch her up by the collar and slam her against the closest tree, “I should shabbin’ gut you right now, you know that?”

Kryze hissed as her injury was strained, “Verd, we don’t have time for-”

“Oh, I think I do,” Chula snarled, pushing her helmet back to flash her teeth in Kryze’s face.. “You see what I did to him? Trandoshan hide is a lot tougher than yours.” She pressed against Kryze’s throat, letting her claws dig into the fabric and skin underneath.

Kryze growled back, hands moving up to grip Chula’s arm, “Look, you hate me, I understand that. But what happened to your Buir wasn’t-”

“Don’t you DARE say it wasn’t your fault!” Chula roared. “You were the one who went runnin’ to Vizla without a second thought!”

“I just informed him about a possible leak! Your Buir was going to expose us to the New Mandalorians!”

Chula’s growls became lower, more animal-like, pupils shrinking until the glow of her eyes hid them completely, “So that justifies gunnin’ him down like a mad beast?”

“He shouldn’t have run! Vizsla would have been fair-!”

Chula roared at that, rearing back and slamming Kryze into the tree again. Her hands squeezed, threatening to snap the delicate cartilage of Kryze’s throat, “Vizsla is a bastard who only cares about bringing glory back to his clan name. The only reason I didn’t march on with my Buir is because we were gettin’ off planet. You ran to Vizsla like a scared dog and told him we were traitors!”

Kryze struggled but she was half Chula’s size and nowhere near her strength, “I will not take responsibility for Drace Verd’s death.”

Chula snarled, leaning in closer. “Give me one good reason not to rip your shabbin’ head off your shoulders.”

Kryze grunted in pain but still managed to hiss back, “One, no way you’re gonna get out of her by yourself. But I’ve been here long enough that I have valuable intel that you need if you want to get to the primary ship. And two, I know you don’t want to beat me like this, where you have the clear advantage.”

Chula growled, eyes narrowing into slits and her rage boiling through her blood.

“You want a fair fight, right? You’re all about fair fights. I’m injured, dehydrated, haven’t eaten a proper amount of food in three days. Doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

The trunk next to Bo-Katana’s head splintered as Chula’s fist bore into it.

And then she hit the ground with a loud crash as Chula spun away, claws still flexing and growls becoming a loud roar of frustration.

Because she didn’t give a damn about being fair when taking Kryze down. She had sold her Buir out to Vizsla, had completely destroyed any trust or respect Chula had had for her-

But as competent as Chula was, she knew her chances of leaving this jungle island alive by herself were low. 

She heaved in deep breaths to try and calm herself.

“So?” Kryze coughed out. “We have a truce until we get off planet?”

Chula inhaled once more before her head snapped around, eyes flashing dangerously, “There’s a sayin’, on Lasan. I’m told my mother was fond of it.” She stalked closer to Kryze until she was looming over the other woman. “One should dance with their worst enemy at least once before you kill them. So, Kryze, how’s your footwork?”

[selchwife]

the thing about kallus is i’m not finished with rebels just yet (one more season!) but ive been spoiled a bit and have an idea of what his arc is intended to be, and it’s like….it’s okay, but i think it leaves some things to be desired for me. and i’ve been chewing on that.

so kallus, for the uninitiated, is an isb agent and works for the empire. he was part of the conflict on lasan that turned into a massacre and left zeb believing he was the only lasat left. naturally this is bad.

in the episode the honorable ones he gets stranded in an ice cave with zeb and they’re forced to work together to survive. he tells zeb things weren’t meant to end in genocide on lasan and is like, clearly troubled by it. (in this way he reminds me of boone fnv, who i think is a better-written character overall, but anyway. the point.) he develops more of a conscience along with his rapport with zeb here. when he returns to the empire he realizes how empty and devoid of meaningful connection his life is, along with realizing like. Obviously they’re the bad guys.

in a different episode zeb finds this planet lir asan that was like, part of a lasat prophecy, and learns there are more lasat living down there. great and awesome.

onward. kallus becomes a mole working on behalf of the rebels, and then gets found out by thrawn, which is bad. thrawn uses kallus’ transmissions to find the location of the rebels’ base. during the subsequent battle kallus manages to escape and then join the rebels for good. From what i understand, post-series he ends up living with zeb on lir asan.

my problem isn’t necessarily the arc itself, or even the relationship with zeb. like, by all accounts it’s a decently solid redemption arc in that kallus has to really work to be better and has to work specifically to repair the harm the empire has caused. i think my issue is just that it doesn’t really adequately address repairing harm he’s caused — he does not have to risk anything to help zeb find lir asan & the remaining lasat, which I think would’ve probably made for a more convincing and targeted redemption than simply being shown after the fact “and btw you and the other soldiers didn’t kill everyone after all!” and then he LIVES there? like great for zeb who likes him but even if he’s completely turned himself around and dedicated himself to undoing the damage he’s done and largely succeeded at it it feels, like….weird to then give him an idyllic happy ending getting to live with a people who are still like, his victims. like don’t inflict that on them! i wouldn’t want him there if i were them!

so i guess my issue is less that he gets a redemption arc and more that i wish that arc was a little stronger/more nuanced. Granted i realize i am asking this of a Disney XD cartoon for children but kids deserve to experience good writing and also me watching this kids show i deserve that as well. i think there is value in redemption arcs that work more like atonement arcs, where a character has done something like this that is difficult or impossible to forgive but who seeks to right that wrong, potentially working at it forever, rather than to ask for forgiveness or try to work toward an absolution that lets them lay down the sword so to speak. i like characters like this. and i do see what they were going for in having kallus forge these connections and living where he does, as sort of an “empathy and respect wins the day” moral, but you can still have that while also, like, taking the committed harm a bit more seriously within the confines of the narrative. just my two scents

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

For day 4 of the @bahrynfestival I really wanted to use the prompt It's time to let go, so I turned it into a little scene!

This is inspired by some things that I've planned to have happen in my Kalluzeb series, and I might adapt this moment to fit in there at some point 👀

Zeb knew the tentative look in Alexsandr’s eyes as he approached him, and he decided to keep standing where he was, overlooking the beautiful swamps of Rodia. Allowing his friend to come up to him at his own pace, voice his thoughts only when he was ready.

Alexsandr came to stand next to him, following his gaze.

They remained silent for a while, Zeb trying not to look at the wistful golden eyes trailing the landscape in front of them, the strong, long-fingered hand raking through the soft blond hair, the muscular chest above a too small waist.

Alexsandr was the one to break the silence, eventually. “It reminds you of Lasan, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice timid.

Zeb sighed, knowing there was no sense in denying. The human knew him too well for that. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry” Alexsandr mumbled, turning to leave.

Zeb caught his wrist, pulling him back towards the railing. “Don’t go.”

Alexsandr looked down, pressing his lips together in a thin line. To anyone else it might look cold and disapproving, but Zeb knew better. That was one of his masking expressions, the way he would look when he desperately tried not to show how much he yearned to give in.

Zeb sighed. “It’s been years” he mumbled. “I’ve been away from Lasan almost as long as I’ve lived there. I should be over it. It’s time to let go.”

Alexsandr turned to look him in the eye, and now the uncertainty in his face was gone, a steely determination taking its place. “It’s not. It never needs to be” he said, his voice hard. “You lost everything, Zeb.”

Because of me. He didn’t say it, but Zeb heard it in his words just the same.

“You don’t have to get over Lasan” Alexsandr went on, almost heatedly. “It was your home, a part of you, the place you would have lived out your life if – if it hadn’t been taken from you.”

Once again the word I lingered on his tongue, but he didn’t utter it. Zeb had told him countless times not to, and at least on this he listened. Sometimes.

“Still” he said. “I’ve found a new family, a new life, a new purpose. I can’t keep dwelling on it, I should get over it.”

Alexsandr let out a long, deep breath, almost literally deflating next to Zeb, all resistance bleeding out of him. “I haven’t gotten over it” he said softly.

“No” Zeb replied. “But it’s time for you to let go as well.”

Alexsandr pursed his lips again.

“Aleks…” Zeb said softly.

His friend abruptly pushed away from the railing. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh?” Zeb said, intrigued.

Alexsandr starting walking back inside the apartment, gesturing for Zeb to join him. “When I was back there” he started, and Zeb didn’t need to ask for clarification, realising he was talking about his time undercover with the Empire on this very planet, “I managed to build a network of fellow defectors, spies, informants.”

Zeb nodded. This wasn’t news to him. Even if Alexsandr hadn’t already told him upon his return, he would have known his friend well enough to guess. He was always thorough like that.

“A few days ago, one of them contacted me.” Alexsandr had come to a halt in front of the holo console. His face was apprehensive again as he reached into his jacket to withdraw a datastick. “They gave me this.”

His expression was cautious, waiting for Zeb to react, to give him whatever permission he needed to go on.

“What’s that?” Zeb asked, hoping to encourage him.

Alexsandr’s fingers subtly tightened around the stick, knuckles turning white as he looked away. “Pictures and holos of Lasan.”

Zeb’s jaw dropped, all the thoughts in his mind coming to an abrupt halt.

Lasan?!?

“How… how…” he stuttered. “How did you manage that?”

Alexsandr grimaced. “I told my informants to contact me about anything regarding Lasan or Lasats they would find.”

Zeb stared at him, speechless. Alexsandr had risked his life, going back to the Empire for as long as he had this time. Save for the occasional Fulcrum transmission he had stayed completely out of contact, knowing that in a position that high any slight hint at his real identity could cost him. And he had thrown all that caution away on the off chance of finding Zeb a reminder of his home world.

And here he’d thought he couldn’t love the man any more than he already did.

“Can I… can I see?” he asked, his voice trembling dangerously.

“Obviously” Alexsandr said, in that steely tone of his he got when not even his trained ISB neutrality was enough to hide the emotion lingering in his voice. “Though some of it is Imperial recordings from the Purge. I would…” He took a deep breath, visibly fighting to keep himself together. “I’d understand if you wouldn’t want to see that. It’s just… this one picture I thought you might appreciate seeing.”

He turned on the console, inserting the stick and scrolling through its files. Zeb saw the one he was looking for before he selected it, and his blood froze in his veins.

F. Ardyli & G. Orrelios, it said, followed by a date somewhere around the time the Empire took over.

Alexsandr hesitated, his finger hovering over the switch. “I’m not –”

“Show me” Zeb said tonelessly. He couldn’t recall who F. Ardyli might have been, but he needed to know it now.

Alexsandr flipped the switch, and the picture appeared.

Zeb stopped breathing.

He only very vaguely recognised F. Ardyli, but he didn’t care to look further into them. His eyes were drawn to the Lasat they were with. G. Orrelios.

It wasn’t him.

“Zan” he breathed.

“Is that your sister?” Alexsandr asked tentatively.

Zeb nodded, unable to talk. Alexsandr seemed to understand, patiently waiting until he found his voice again. “I’d… I’d almost forgotten what she looked like.”

“She’s beautiful” Alexsandr muttered, and the genuineness in his voice caused Zeb’s heart to burst open. Despite the Imperial xenophobia he spent most of his life around, Alexsandr was still able to see the beauty in another species.

“She was” he mumbled, reaching out in a desperate attempt to touch the hologram, and before he knew it his face was wet with tears.

Alexsandr was right. He could never fully get over Lasan. It would remain a part of him forever.

“Zeb –”

Alexsandr made an aborted move, like he wanted to put his arms around Zeb but thought the better of it. But Zeb immediately moved towards him, and after an awkward second Alexsandr carefully embraced him.

“I don’t think you have to worry about forgetting what she looks like” Alexsandr said softly, in a voice that was equal parts soothing and anxious. “You see her spitting image every time you look at your reflection.”

A howl escaped Zeb’s throat and he buried his face in the curve of Alexsandr’s shoulder. His friend just held him, a little stiffly and awkwardly, but clearly trying so hard. Like he clearly fought to keep the memory of Lasan alive, to ensure that the culture he had helped destroy wouldn’t be lost forever, that Zeb would never forget about the people who had meant the world to him.

“She would have loved you” he sniffled wetly into Alexsandr’s shoulder.

“I highly doubt that” Alexsandr replied, his voice hard again.

Zeb pulled back a bit to look him in the eye. “She would have” he said firmly. “We were very alike, we usually agreed on people.”

She would have loved you because I love you.

A powerful longing struck him all of a sudden, an overwhelming desire to do what Zan had done countless times: bring his newest flame back home to meet the family. How he wished he could introduce Alexsandr to his family, his friends, his home…

When the war is over, he vowed quietly, I’ll show you Lira San.

[ramblingsofafanatic]

Nightmares

Please see the series Masterlist for more details! Although this can be read as a standalone. 

Summary: Kallus' nightmares are still a problem :/

Word Count: 

Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios

Warnings: Nightmares. Sleeping medication.

Zeb returns from their mission exhausted. He’s wide awake when he sees Christine approaching the ship as the ramp lowers. 

“Is Kal okay?” Zeb asks as he hastens to meet her halfway.

“Yes, but he won’t be if he doesn’t get some rest.” Christine says.

“He in intelligence?” 

“Yup.”

“Okay, I’m on it, thanks.” He nods and heads off to fetch Kal.

-

“We talked about this.” Zeb says as they head back towards their bunk.

“I know,” Kallus sighs, he just can’t seem to sleep when Zeb isn’t with him. They’ve talked about it before but it’s not like they can stay together all the time. It’s just not a feasible thing. Zeb has asked Kallus to see one of the medics about it, but Kallus isn’t willing to go to such lengths for something as silly as nightmares.

“I really wish you’d at least talk to someone about them, it doesn't have to be me but someone.” Zeb says.

“I know,” Kallus repeats as they reach their door and he punches in the key code. Zeb sighs and moves to get ready to sleep. Kallus knows Zeb is probably exhausted himself from his mission and he wants them both to get some rest. He doesn’t like having Zeb worry over him, which is a double edged sword with this issue. If he talks to Zeb, the lasat will be worried and if he doesn’t talk to someone, Zeb will be worried anyways. He just hasn’t decided what he wants to have Zeb worrying over. 

“C’mon” Zeb says as he moves to help Kallus remove his jacket and boots. Kallus debates with himself internally as to whether or not he should say something. The internal debate lasts long enough that by the time he comes anywhere close to a decision, he’s already cuddled up to Zeb and they're both falling asleep.

-

“Kal.” Zeb says as he sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through the human’s hair. He moves his hand back as he watches Kal jump up to sitting.

“You’re back.” Kal says as he settles at the sight of Zeb.

“I’m back, you wanna talk about it?” Zeb asks as he does every time. He’s expecting the usual dismissal and reassurance that Kal’s okay, but that’s not what happens. 

"It's Lasan but you're there now and I- I-" Kal says and cuts himself off as he starts to choke up. Zeb can understand where it's going and just pulls Kal to him, letting the human's tears soak into his shoulder. Alex falls asleep like that and Zeb adjusts them to lay down in the bed. Dozing off himself as he lets Alex get some well deserved rest.

-

“I’m proud of you, you know.” Zeb says the next morning as they’re getting ready to head out to their respective shifts.

“What.” Kallus says, confused.

“For talking, even just a little.” Zeb explains.

“Oh.” Kallus doesn’t know what to say, he barely even finished a sentence before breaking down. It’s something he’s almost positive he will overthink later, he’s already preparing to talk himself out of whatever spiral he goes into after that ‘show of weakness’. 

“I love you.” Zeb says as he moves over to rub his cheek against Kallus’.

“I love you too.” Kallus replies as he moves to pull Zeb’s mouth to his own after the lasat finishes scenting him.

-

Kallus feels horrible for not being able to sleep alone without being plagued by nightmares. Made worse when Zeb starts to ensure he's with Kallus for sleep as often as possible. It gets a little better when they find out that leaving something covered in Zeb’s scent for Kallus to sleep with helps keep the nightmares at bay, so it’s easier to convince Zeb to go on missions

He feels a bit like a child, unable to truly sleep alone and requiring a blanket or shirt that smells like Zeb to get a somewhat decent rest. He also hates to admit that it only helps somewhat and he seems to require Zeb's actual presence to be nightmare free. He hates that Zeb is observant enough to notice this as well.

It’s after the third time that Zeb rearranges something he was looking forward to for Kallus’ sleep that Kallus decides that maybe it’s time to talk to a medic. He can’t keep disrupting Zeb’s life like this.

He doesn't know why he's hiding the fact he's taking sleeping medication. He knows Zeb would support him trying to get sleep and getting help for it. But he just can't admit such a weakness out loud - it was already mortifying admitting to the medic he had trouble sleeping and the ordeal of them trying to get the medication to begin with. It's just that he feels selfish for taking rebellion resources for something so small and insignificant - not that the medic made him feel that way, the medic said quite the opposite and was glad Kallus was seeking help. A well rested rebel was better at surviving and helping then one dead on their feet. 

And despite all this and knowing he should, he still can’t bring himself to tell Zeb.

[ao3feed-eremin]

Jesus Christ We Need To Stop Crashing Ships

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/lKsM07C

by 33smallraccoonsinatrenchcoat

AoT x Star Wars. That's the just of it. I did this cause I asked my friend who I should draw light sabers for, so THANK YOU CHAR YOU'RE MY BESTIE FOR LIFE!!!!!!!! More tags and shit will be added as I go. I might not post super often depending on my work hours. I wont do smut in the main fic, but might to some side ones with that

Words: 1059, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of AoT x Star Wars

Fandoms: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Mikasa Ackerman, Levi Ackerman, Marco Bott, Bertolt Hoover, Reiner Braun, Sasha Blouse, Connie Springer, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoë, Moblit Berner, Mike Zacharias, Jean Kirstein, Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, Yelena (Shingeki no Kyojin), Ymir of the 104th (Shingeki no Kyojin), Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss, Porco Galliard, Marcel Galliard | Berwick, Dot Pixis, Gabi Braun, Floch Forster, Falco Grice, Kenny Ackerman, Frieda Reiss, Theo Magath, Nile Dok, Hitch Dreyse, Azumabito Kiyomi, Darius Zackly, Marlo Sand | Marlowe Freudenberg, Hannes (Shingeki no Kyojin), Zofia (Shingeki no Kyojin), Udo (Shingeki no Kyojin), Uri Reiss, Lara Tybur, Willy Tybur, Flegel Reeves, Dimo Reeves, Carla Yeager, Dina Yeager | Dina Fritz, Onyankopon (Shingeki no Kyojin), Asajj Ventress, Nightsister Characters (Star Wars), Talzin (Star Wars)

Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith, Hitch Dreyse/Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman/Sasha Blouse, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir of the 104th

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars), Major Character Injury, First Battle of Geonosis (Star Wars), Siege of Mandalore (Star Wars), Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Planet Shili (Star Wars), Planet Ryloth | Twi'lek (Star Wars), Planet Geonosis (Star Wars), Planet Lasan (Star Wars), Planet Tatooine (Star Wars), Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Planet Coruscant (Star Wars), Planet Ilum (Star Wars), Planet Dathomir (Star Wars), Fluff, Angst

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/lKsM07C