#light saber mat

[ghostymarni]

found this communicator, wonder who it belongs to

[yandere-wishes]

⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.  

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"  

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

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[wordpress-blaze-169939984]

What is a narcissist?

What characterizes a narcissist? I've encountered this term frequently, not because my friends or colleagues have applied it to me, but rather due to my older sister's frequent use of it. She appears to believe that I fit this description. To diagnose someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), five out of the nine criteria from the DSM-IV-TR are necessary. Some of the traits associated with NPD include a heightened sense of self-importance, preoccupation with fantasies of power, wealth, success, and love, a constant need for admiration, a belief in one's uniqueness, a lack of empathy, arrogance, entitlement, a preference for associating only with important or special individuals, and a tendency to exploit others for personal gain.

It's crucial to distinguish between narcissism and narcissistic personality disorder. Narcissism refers to certain exhibited traits in a person, where they don't meet enough criteria to be categorized as having NPD.

Allow me to elaborate on the fact that most of us possess elements of personality disorders to some degree. For instance, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is one of the most commonly discussed ones. Each of us experiences varying levels of OCD tendencies. Similarly, anxiety and periods of depression are universal; the key lies in the extent to which these disorders disrupt our daily functioning.

This principle applies to both narcissism and NPD. Celebrating our achievements occasionally and taking pride in reaching goals are healthy behaviors. There's no issue with that. Therefore, if someone labels you as a narcissist or suggests you have OCD, don't be overly concerned. More often than not, they might be projecting their own emotions onto you. Give them space to express themselves, and eventually, the genuine truth will emerge.

Examples and Anecdotes: Imagine a coworker who consistently seeks praise for their achievements and often downplays the accomplishments of others. While this behavior might seem narcissistic, it doesn't necessarily meet the criteria for NPD. On the other hand, someone with NPD might manipulate their colleagues into doing their work for them, exploiting their desire to please for personal gain.

Treatment and Coping Strategies: For those dealing with narcissism or NPD, seeking professional help from therapists or counselors is a crucial step. Cognitive-behavioral therapy and other therapeutic approaches can be effective in addressing the underlying issues and promoting healthier behaviors. Developing empathy, self-awareness, and coping strategies are integral parts of the recovery process. For friends and family, setting boundaries and encouraging open communication can help manage interactions with individuals exhibiting narcissistic traits. Remember that change takes time and dedication, but it's possible with the right support and commitment.

Source: What is a narcissist?

[skywalkerslvt]

Training With Anakin

❥Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: Your training session with Anakin gets heated

❥CW: 18+ smut, dry humping, mentions of the jedi code, sub!ani, teasing

❥a/n: I wrote this instead of studying. Very rushed, not proofread, hope u enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest

Sweat trickled down your brow as you corrected your stance once more. The training session with Anakin had been intense, the two of you pushing each other to your limits under the dim glow of the training room lights. But as the hours stretched on and fatigue began to set in, a different kind of tension simmered between you. The late hour meant the temple was nearly empty, giving the two of you a rare moment of privacy. 

The two of you circled each other, lightsabers ignited, the hum of the blades filling the room. Anakin moved first, his strikes quick and precise. You parried, matching his movements, the clash of sabers ringing in the air. Despite the intensity of the duel, there was an undercurrent of something more–a tension that had been building between you for weeks.

Anakin's movements became more erratic, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he struggled to keep up with your relentless assault. You could sense his frustration building, his normally controlled demeanour slipping away with each passing moment.

As you fought, you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the intensity in his gaze. It was distracting, but you used it to fuel your own movements, pushing yourself to keep up with him.

Anakin's strikes grew more aggressive, and you responded in kind, the rhythm of the fight becoming almost hypnotic.

He moved to disarm you, but you countered, using his momentum against him. With a swift movement, you knocked his lightsaber from his hand and swept his legs out from under him, pinning him to the mat.

“Got you,” you breathed, a triumphant smile on your lips as you straddled his hips. 

“What are you doing?” Anakin questioned, a hint of panic in his voice as he struggled against you.  You chuckled as you grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the floor beneath your hands. 

“Give up, Skywalker. I beat you.” Anakin tilted his head back against the floor in distress, inhaling sharply at the feel of your weight atop him. 

His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. He bucked his hips again, trying to throw you off balance, but you held firm, pressing your own hips down harder to keep him pinned. His breath hitched, a barely audible whimper escaping his lips. 

It was then that you felt it–the hard length pressing against your thigh. Realization dawned on you, your eyes widening slightly as you took in the flush of his cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell with each laboured breath. 

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Having a little trouble keeping it under control, Ani?” you teased, your voice low and husky with desire. 

He looked away, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “I…I’m sorry,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering. 

You tilted your head, a slow smile spreading across your face. “Don't be,” you said, shifting your hips slightly, eliciting a sharp gasp from him. “I think I can help you out with your…problem.” 

His eyes snapped back to yours, hesitation and anticipation evident in his eyes. “But the Jedi Code…”

You placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “We won't break the Code, Anakin.” you murmured, grinding your hips down again, feeling his hardness press against you. “We'll find another way.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, a mix of relief and desire flooding his gaze. “What do you mean?” he whispered, his voice trembling with need.

“We don’t have to… you know,” you said, moving your hips in a slow, deliberate motion that drew a moan from his lips. “We can just… take care of each other without breaking any rules.”

Anakin’s hands, which had been gripping your wrists, moved to your hips, holding you in place as he bucked up against you. “But... it’s still…”

“It’s not sex, Ani,” you reassured him, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “We’re just helping each other out.”

He nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he surrendered to the pleasure building between you. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and relief. “Okay.”

You smiled against his lips at his response, your hips grinding down harder, eliciting a moan from Anakin as he clung to your robes. “Good boy,” you murmured, your lips grazing his ear. “Keep taking it. Just like that, Ani”

You ground down harder, the friction on your clit making you pant in pleasure. Anakin;s hands found your hips, guiding them back and forth on his clothed cock. His precum was starting to stain the front of his pants, making him blush in shame. 

“I need you,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.

“I know,” you whispered, your movements becoming more deliberate, more focused. “Just a little more, Ani. Just like this.” He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself in the sensation. The tension between you grew, each movement bringing you both closer to the edge.

It was all too much. As Anakin felt that heat building low in his belly, he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy, openmouthed kiss. With a final, desperate thrust, Anakin cried out, his body shuddering beneath you as he found his release. You followed moments later, the pleasure washing over you in waves.

For a few moments, the world was nothing but the sound of your breathing mingling, the feel of his body against yours. Then, slowly, reality began to creep back in. You collapsed against his chest, both of you spent and sated.

Anakin’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “That was... incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Yes, it was,” you agreed, contentment settling over you. “We should get to bed. We still have more training in the morning,” you said with a knowing look in your eyes. 

Anakin chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he reluctantly lifted himself to his feet. He extended a hand to you, helping you up with a gentle pull. “You’re right,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “But I can’t help but look forward to our next... training session.”

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the quiet training room. “You’re insatiable, Skywalker,” you teased, giving his hand a squeeze as you walked towards the door.

As you exited the room and exchanged goodnights, a shared understanding passed between you. Anakin’s eyes held a promise, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves in such an intimate encounter.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, a knowing smile on your lips as you turned to head to your quarters.

“Count on it,” Anakin replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he headed in the opposite direction. With a final, satisfied smile, Anakin slipped into his quarters, already looking forward to the morning.

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Jedi Knight Jaune Arc having to duel Pyrrha because she fell to the dark side and became a sith sometime after he turned down her feelings so he could adhere to the Jedi code, but still values her friendship, which obviously given this prompt, wasn't enough for her.

I’m sorry I didn’t get this out sooner everyone. Not only missing Star Wars Day this year, but LAST YEAR as well. I finally got motivated to just start it and post it this year, even if it is still late for Star Wars Day on May 4th. I just need to get over trying to post things on specific days I guess.

I do hope you all enjoy it though! I love Star Wars, so this Ask was awesome to get! But there are a few things I would like to change just because I think it'll fit better. Pyrrha becomes more of a Dark or Gray Jedi, not really a Sith. Basically, she won't adhere to any group or abide by a side's force teachings. It's more like she will be self focused, only doing what she thinks is right and just needs the power to do so. She won't be totally corrupted by the dark side, so think that she’s like Asajj Ventress a bit.

Also, she "falls" not just because Jaune doesn't reciprocate her feelings, but also because she sees many flaws in the Jedi way and the Order as a whole. I just think that would be more fitting and interesting rather than her just being a Yandere.

It was passing dusk in Vale, a warm orange light falling over the kingdom. As night approached, the streets were growing quieter. However, the streets were no place of importance at the moment. No, it was in a run down starship factory where there was currently an exchange happening, one that would alter many lives in the future. 

Inside the dim interior, a bright sapphire blue lightsaber clashed with a duller emerald green one. Where the blades of energy collided and locked, a flash of light erupted from the two lightsabers clashing, illuminating the faces of the two wielders. The body holding the blue lightsaber was Jaune Arc, a recently made Jedi Knight. His blonde hair looked messy, matted with a mix of sweat, dust, and other grim found around the abandoned factory. His Jedi robes were dirty and a bit tattered in places, singed in others. 

Across the locked lightsabers was the wielder of the green blade, Pyrrha Nikos. In contrast to Jaune, she looked relatively clean and unbothered. Despite all the fighting she’d been doing, her crimson hair was still neatly done up in her ponytail. Her own clothes only had sparse flecks of dirt. She had forgone her traditional brown and white robes that she usually wore like Jaune. Instead, she was now wearing a dark red and black jacket over a simple red shirt. Around her waist were a pair of tight bronze pants and a small red sash tied around her waist that she usually used to hide her lightsaber more. This woman was once Jaune’s comrade and friend. 

Now, she was his adversary... 

As Jaune struggled back and forth in the saber lock with Pyrrha, he thought about how it came to this. Trading blows with his best friend? Someone he had gone into battle with, trained with, grew up with!? He’d never imagined this being possible. As the blades were pushed back and forth, illuminating both of their faces, Jaune thought of how quickly things had come to this.

-------------------------------------------------------- 

Jaune had just gotten back from a training session when he had heard what happened. Pyrrha had suddenly lashed out at the Masters before abandoning the Beacon Jedi Temple, escalating to fighting her way out at some point and gravely injuring Master Ozpin in the process. When the Master’s finished explaining everything, Jaune didn’t hesitate to go after her. He needed to see what was wrong with his friend. There had to be some kind of explanation for all of it! 

He ran to the temple hanger, hopping into his starfighter and took off. It was only thanks to a secret pair of transponders he and Pyrrha shared that led him to her location. They had exchanged them long ago, back when they were only padawans, so that they could always find each other if they ever needed to. Only Pyrrha had ever had to use hers… this was the first time he had used his. The transponder showed Pyrrha’s ship just outside the kingdom at an old Corelian starship factory. 

When he arrived after speeding through the orange hued skies, he immediately saw Pyrrha’s ship on a raised landing platform outside. It was easy to recognize as it looked identical to his own, aside from being red and bronze instead of gold and white. He landed as carefully as he could next to her fighter and got out. He spent only a brief moment checking her ship for any sign of her before sprinting off into the factory.

As he jogged through the dust and rust covered halls, he kept calling out to Pyrrha. Then he finally caught up with her, or more accurately, she caught up with him. As he ran through a storage hanger, Pyrrha had suddenly dropped down from above behind him, showing that she had known Jaune was following her the whole time and was just waiting for him. 

Jaune certainly hadn’t expected it though and spun around sensing a presence behind him, igniting his lightsaber as he did. When he saw it was Pyrrha however, he actually smiled and stowed his weapon, clipping it back to his belt and moved to hug her. A hug she happily returned.

After a few seconds of embracing, they separated, and Jaune just unleashed all his questions at once. Was she okay? Did she actually fight through the temple guards? She didn’t really try to kill master Ozpin, did she? What was going on?!

And to Jaune’s shock and disbelief, she admitted to it. All of it. Right down to fighting and almost killing master Ozpin, but instead only left him with a missing leg. She then stunned Jaune even more as she stated very plainly that she was leaving the Jedi order. The only thing that was more unbelievable to Jaune was her reasons for doing so. 

“I’m tired of being told how to feel and live! I’m sick of being told to ignore my emotions when they’re a part of who I am! I’m fed up with being told I’m not supposed to try to control the force certain ways, but then watch as all the “masters” keep trying to rip the balance of the force in their favor! Drawing countless innocents into a millennia old war and their order! All the leaders of the Jedi are just misleading hypocrites! But… but not you Jaune. You truly believe in everything you say you do, you see such good in everything and everyone. That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you… You are one of the few people I have ever met that just are how they seem. You are who you say you are, you do what you say you’re going to do. No lies, no half truths, and no manipulation to control others. Just a caring, sweet man, doing what he believes is right and helping whoever he can.” Pyrrha tenderly placed a hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb along his cheek bone softly. “I love you Jaune, please… let's leave the Order together.”

When she asked him that, Jaune stepped back, leaving Pyrrha’s hand outstretched where she had been caressing his cheek. “Pyrrha… y-you can’t be serious. The Jedi, they’re good people. They’re the ones trying to keep peace and order throughout the galaxy!”

Pyrrha’s outstretched hand slowly closed, clenching into fist like she was trying to grab hold of Jaune even though he had moved. Then she threw her arm down out to her side, looking at Jaune angrily.

“Why can’t you see what the Jedi really are, Jaune!? They're all hypocrites! Saying that all life is sacred and connected through the Force, but the council is happy to force us to be isolated our entire lives, never allowed to feel everything that living creatures are supposed to feel! They’ll let some people fend for themselves, but risk everything to save others! They’ll spare criminals and monsters time and time again in the name of ‘mercy’! They’re idea of peacekeeping is going to ruin them and this galaxy sooner or later…”

Jaune stepped back closer to Pyrrha, this time not to hug her but to question her. “Pyrrha, what’s gotten into you!? Why are you thinking like this? You’ve always believed in the good the Jedi do, you were one of the best students of the temple! You know more about the Jedi teachings than any I know! What’s causing you to change all of a sudden?”

Pyrrha let out a humorless chuckle as she began walking around Jaune, circling him slowly. “What changed Jaune? Only the fact that I realized we were just becoming soldiers in a war for the Order, trying to ‘keep the balance of the Force’, but by tipping the scales in their favor any chance they get! I heard that there were refugees from Vacuo unjustly being held prisoner and by some council member in Vale, so I had to help them. When the Masters heard what was happening though, they ordered me not to intervene! That the possible crimes of politicians weren’t a high priority! They were more concerned with Ysalamiri being smuggled onto the planet and told me to go investigate that instead!” Pyrrha stopped her pacing, her teeth now grinding together as she remembered how dismissive they had been. “They were fine with just letting those people suffer and die! And when I defied their orders and went and found the prisoners anyways, there wasn't enough evidence tying the council member to it, so they got away with no justice for the people that he was holding captive and planning to sell into slavery!” Nearby, a metal crate was crushed down to just a large clump of metal, showing Pyrrha’s rage was flowing through the Force.

“Pyrrha, just calm down!”

“NO!” Jaune felt an invisible force shoving him back, his feet skidding along the ground as he slid back a good distance back from Pyrrha. He was rather fortunate that is all that happened though, because other objects like old hover carts and loose floor paneling went flying away from her. “Don’t tell me to calm down! Not when I had to then be lectured by Master Port upon returning to the temple. He and Master Branwen went on and on about how I need to handle situations like these more diplomatically, how I only endangered lives by rushing in and confronting them all with aggression... all while that slaver scum got to walk free!”

Jaune felt a pressure building up around him in the stale factory air. He had never even seen Pyrrha angry before, but he was now seeing her furious. He felt both the Force and his instincts telling him he was in danger, but he suppressed them and kept his hand off his lightsaber. He didn’t want to escalate the situation before he had to…

Before he could think to start moving closer to her again, Pyrrha continued. “That’s when I decided… I’m just going to leave. The Jedi, their code, and the Order are just not what I want with my life anymore. I’ve been thinking this over time and time again since the war broke out. I saw time and time again the flaws and mistakes of the Jedi. That lecture was the last straw for me. So I told the Masters that I was leaving… and you know what they said?” An eerie calm tone was in Pyrrha’s voice. It unnerved Jaune so much that he didn’t speak up to answer her, even though it was rhetorical anyways. “They told me that I was just letting emotions cloud my sense of reason and judgement… that I should just go meditate to clear my mind… that I WASN’T leaving. They spoke to me like I was just a youngling, not a warrior that had seen battle. And they acted like I didn’t have any say in how I got to live my life! So I said they were welcome to try and stop me… and they chose to try.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath, trying not to calm down, but to just focus back on the current situation. “That’s why I fought my way out. They tried to stop me. It isn’t MY fault.” Pyrrha looked up into Jaune’s eyes. “Please Jaune, leave with me… we could do so much more good in this Galaxy on our own than the entire Order could together. And… we could give us a chance.” She reached out a hand to him, begging him to take it and go with her.

Jaune stared at Pyrrha, wide eyed and mouth agape. He had no idea what to say. This wasn’t the first time Pyrrha had told him she might have feelings for him, but it was the first time she had declared it. Now… she seemed so desperate. So finite in her confession. Other times she had seemed unsure and they both just brushed it off as confusion or simply very close camaraderie. Now she was asking him to leave the only life he had known for almost two decades behind him?! And he couldn’t get the image of her confessing to almost killing Master Ozpin out of his head. What she did  was wrong, he knew it was. Or he thought he did… 

“Pyrrha… I’m sorry, but I can’t just abandon the Order. It’s been my entire life. And… you know that Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments. It always leads to suffering in the end. I… I don’t want to risk that happening with us”

Pyrrha’s hand lowered to her side. Her heart filled with sorrow, but her eyes were the only part of her that she let show it. “I see… well then Jaune. This is where we part and go our separate ways. I wish you the best with following the Jedi. If there is anyone who will still be able to do good amongst their ranks, it’s you… May the Force with you. Hopefully it will guide us back to each other again one day.” Pyrrha turned away from Jaune, and Jaune watched her start to leave. As he watched her leave, he quickly thought back to everything she had said.

Then he remembered her admitting to what she did at the temple, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Wait!”

Pyrrha stopped mid step and spun back around, a smile growing on her lips as she looked at Jaune expectantly.

Jaune swallowed hard, knowing what he was about to say would be hard. “After everything you did at the temple… I can’t just let you leave either.” The hopeful smile growing on Pyrrha’s lips died quickly and Jaune could see her fist clench, but he made himself continue. “I-if you come back peacefully… w-we can get you a trial. I’m sure that w-”

“Jaune…” Pyrrha’s cold tone stopped his plea instantly. “If you try to stop me like they did… I’ll deal with you like I did them…” Pyrrha slowly reached down to her hip, the hilt of her lightsaber flying off her belt and into her hand. A beat passed, but then Jaune slowly drew the hilt of his own lightsaber off his belt and stared her down. He had cemented his choice.

Pyrrha looked at Jaune, troubled and uncertain. But after a moment, her face and nerves steeled, and Pyrrha ignited her blade. The bright emerald green blade that once reassured Jaune, now unnerved him greatly. Jaune’s only comfort was that she only ignited one of her blades, not both…

Then, dashing that small comfort to Jaune’s even further surprise and dread, Pyrrha rushed him.

--------------------------------------------------------

And now they were here, locked in a fight that Jaune knew he absolutely couldn’t win. Pyrrha was more skilled than him in every way. He had fought and trained with her long enough to know that she outclassed him in pretty much everything. Her agility, strength, endurance… they were all so much greater than his own. Even her connection to the Force, despite all the mental and emotional turmoil that she was going through, was still stronger than his. 

She showed this by using the Force to push his leg out from under him, causing him to lose his balance and fall forward. Pyrrha capitalized on this immediately by using the hilt of her lightsaber to hit Jaune in the temple. The metal struck true, but Jaune managed to lessen the blow by rolling with it and getting some distance from her again, but his head was still throbbing from it. Jaune rolled up to his feet, ready to defend himself, but she held back. 

She could have effortlessly killed Jaune with that move if she really tried too. It would have been too easy for her to turn on the other side of her lightsaber and impaled his entire head. 

But she wasn’t trying. 

Jaune wasn’t sure to be thankful or frustrated, but he knew Pyrrha was just toying with him. Countless times she could have ended their fight. But instead of completely cutting a limb or running him through with her lightsaber, she’d only graze him with the side or tip. She’d then let him recuperate before continuing. She was being merciful. Or was it arrogance now that she seemed so much more aggressive?

Either way, she wasn’t trying to end the fight. She was trying to make Jaune give up. And Jaune refused to do that. No matter how many times she slashed him with her lightsaber, Jaune gritted through the pain and got right back up. His robes were plenty of evidence of that. The cuts, singes, and dirt from all her pulled attacks and knocking him down to the filthy factory floor kept piling up.

But Jaune still had to keep trying. He couldn’t win, but if he held her off long enough, other Jedi could possibly have tracked his ship and might be on their way to help him! Maybe even Master Goodwitch or Branwen! He just had to keep getting up and keeping her occupied.

Jaune finally pushed through the pain in his body and stood up, but his legs were shaky. “Pyrrha! Stop this! I don’t want to fight you! We can talk through this if you'll jus-!” 

Pyrrha sighed, shaking her head and stopping Jaune from speaking any further. “Oh Jaune… you're still just trying to be the perfect, textbook Jedi. Peaceful resolution this, nonviolent solution this. You’re always trying to avoid conflict whenever you can. Well sometimes…” Jaune could almost hear Pyrrha’s grip clench on her lightsaber tightening as she paused, looking down at her hand. Sometimes violence IS necessary! Sometimes, aggression is what is needed to protect others! And the Jedi are too arrogant and stuck in their ways to see that! And you chose their side… so now you’re part of the problem.”

Pyrrha raised her hand, her palm facing Jaune. The Jedi knight soon found that there was no longer any ground beneath his feet as he was picked up by the Force. He struggled feebly as Pyrrha got closer, not even looking like she had to concentrate to hold him aloft.

“Even now, you still impress me Jaune. I knew you were stubborn, but you’re also not foolish.  It took me a while to figure out what you were trying to do, why you kept getting up despite knowing you can’t win. I can’t let this fight continue and let you buy the Jedi more time to track me down. I’m sorry Jaune… but I have to end this now.”

Pyrrha pushed her palm forward, sending Jaune flying back into a wall. Or rather, through one. The factory walls were old, rusted, and this one in particular wasn’t bearing any kind of load. The metal gave way easily as Jaune smashed into it. He was sent sailing into a big, dark room, void of any source of light other than what was coming through the same hole he just had. 

Jaune slammed into the floor, rolling to a stop as the wind rushed out of his lungs. He came to a stop on his back, gasping several times before finally being able to get air in. He took in deep breaths of the old air before he started coughing. Both from the dust and what felt like very damaged ribs.

He struggled and tried to stand up, but was unable to find his footing. His body hurt too much. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was starting to feel all the bruises and singed cuts Pyrrha had covered his body with. Not to mention the likely broken bones he now had from being thrown through a blasted wall!

Jaune heard a light thud behind him. It took all his strength, but he managed to roll over onto his stomach and look behind him. He saw Pyrrha had followed him down into the darkness, now both ends of her lightsaber were ignited, illuminating a fraction more of the space around them, mainly themselves and the floor beneath them. Jaune felt panic settle in as he saw her approach. 

That’s when he realized his own lightsaber was no longer in his grasp. He did his best to look around in the darkness, despite the fact that every movement of his head made his whole body hurt. He didn’t see anything until Pyrrha got a few steps closer. In the dim green light approaching him, he saw the shine of his hilt, on the opposite side of him that Pyrrha was. He knew there was no way he’d be able to crawl to it in time. It was too far.

Jaune looked back at Pyrrha, seeing that she was still approaching him. He swallowed hard, and started to try and calm himself. He looked back to his hilt and slowly propped himself up on his arms. He reached out with his right hand, even though it was shaking. Pushing his mind clear of the pain and exhaustion, he reached out to the Force, beckoning it to bring his lightsaber to him. 

At first, nothing happened except Pyrrha’s footsteps getting closer, but Jaune soon felt relief as he saw his hilt start to wobble. It’s wobbling picked up speed and the hilt scooted a little along the ground towards him. He reached out harder, trying to connect to the Force even more so. Finally, with one last desperate mental plea from Jaune, the lightsaber took off from the ground. It sailed through the air at a fast speed towards Jaune’s outstretched hand, and Jaune almost cried when he saw it.

It was only when his hilt flew past his hand that he realized something was wrong, and it was much too late to stop it. The hard metal hilt collided with his forehead, a deep gash being torn into his face just under his hairline. The impact was so strong, Jaune was sent flopping back onto his back again. And the hilt kept flying past him afterwards right into Pyrrha’s own outstretched hand.

Even though Jaune couldn’t see anything in the dark room, it still felt like it was spinning around him. A wet warmth ran down his face. He knew he was bleeding, and badly as well. But he felt too nauseous after the blow to his head to focus on anything other than trying not to throw up. His damaged body was too exhausted and wouldn’t move anymore. Everything he had, he’d spent.

“Jaune… I am so sorry…” Pyrrha knelt down next to the defeated man, placing both their lightsaber’s down next to her. “I… I didn’t want this. Any of it. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. Please, I hope you can forgive me…” Pyrrha fell silent as she just stared down at the man she loved while his head bled from the wound she had inadvertently caused to him. She reached down to her red sash and removed it from her waist. Then she gently went about tying it around Jaune’s head as a bandage, feeling even more guilt as he groaned when she tied the knot into place. “I… I have to go now Jaune… I’m sorry it ended this way… I had hoped we could have left together, found another path through life guided by our own morals and the Force, not the Jedi’s dogma or the master’s orders.” Pyrrha went to stand back up, but paused. She looked back down at Jaune, and lent down once more to his head, placing a gentle kiss on his temple opposite his wound.

Without another word, she grabbed both lightsabers and stood up, fully this time. The once Jedi  turned around and walked away, leaving back through the same hole she had come through.

Leaving the Jedi, their code, the Order, and Jaune behind her.

/////////////

Pyrrha looked down at Jaune’s lightsaber hilt in her hands as she stowed her own back on her belt. She had so desperately hoped for things to go differently when she decided to leave. But one thing after another kept going wrong. First, the council belittled her decision to leave. Then they tried to forcibly stop her from leaving. She got through them all, but while trying to leave the planet, she decided to wait for Jaune to ask him to join her. Jaune… then turned her down… then their duel… 

It had all happened so fast! Just yesterday she had wished Jaune a good training session in the forests of Vale before leaving for her own duties! Now… now she was no longer in the Jedi Order, had to fight her former masters on her way out, and… had to hurt Jaune in ways she only ever had nightmares about… and then left him injured and alone in some old factory!

But that was already done. She couldn’t go back and change anything she did. She had to go ahead with the path she had already chosen.

She walked out onto the landing platform where her ship was, and stopped when she saw that Jaune’s ship had landed right next to her’s, the cockpit still open. A matching pair, easily identifiable.

Another swell of guilt rose within her as she walked up to Jaune’s ship. She looked inside, and quickly found the controls needed for communications. She sent a simple message to the Beacon Temple. Then, for good measure, she made the communications relay start sending out a distress signal over as big of a range as possible for help. 

She waited until she was sure that she heard the pinging start, showing that the signal was being broadcast, before she lent back out of the cockpit. There was no way that the Jedi at the Beacon temple wouldn’t see the message or the distress signal. Honestly, any starships near the planet might be able to see the distress signal. But as long as it got Jaune help, she didn’t care.

With her attempt at helping Jaune one more time finished, she jogged over and hopped into her own ship. Before the cockpit closed, she reached down and ripped out the transponder beacon she and Jaune shared. She looked at it for a moment, before lifting it out of her hand and crushing it with the Force. The metal and circuitry shattered and crumbled into a misshapen ball. She then let it go sailing away off the landing platform and closed the cockpit. 

Her ship started up, the engines roaring to life. She placed Jaune’s lightsaber down by her feet and took the controls. With one final deep breath, and one lone tear trailing down her cheek, she took off, flying off into the now dark skies and into space.

Sorry I didn’t do much for the Jaune and Pyrrha fight scene as a whole. I had a whole sequence of events thought up for it, but I’m not too experienced with those and this Ask was already long enough without it. I can try a more detailed recounting if anyone wants in another Ask.

[iimplicitt]

THE DARK IS PATIENT | PT. I

anakin skywalker and ahsoka tano

Ahsoka Tano had been searching for her Master after Order 66 and finds herself struggling to connect to the Force like she once had. The ways of the Jedi weren't working anymore, she needed more and there was only one person she knew who could teach her how to be the best, all the while evading the iron fist of the Empire.

Anakin Skywalker, a name many thought had fallen along with the rest of the Jedi. The souls of the Empire unknowing to the looming figure that resided on Mustafar and held the fate of the galaxy in his hands. Heartbroken from betrayal and his own ignorance, Darth Vader searches for his old Padawan in the shadows of all the systems. He needed her, and he had the strong sense that she needed him, too.

a/n: The way I write Anakin's character as well as mentions to past events will HEAVILY be inspired by the novelization of Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover. If you haven't read it yet, I highly HIGHLY recommend it. Episode III is already my favorite movie but the book just adds so much depth to who Anakin is. This will be told from both Ahsoka and Anakin's perspective.

PART ONE: WHISPERS IN THE DARK

Meditation was never a strong skill of hers and she shifted part of the blame to her Master. He wasn’t good at it either so how was she supposed to be? Yet right now, as she sat on an old mat and focused on the whistle of the wind outside… she knew it was no one's fault but her own.

She had never dedicated time to meditation when she was a Padawan, she didn’t have the time to try again as the Clone Wars raged on, and she certainly didn’t have the time now.

But Ahsoka was trying. Desperately. She was alone now and she needed guidance, and lately it had felt as if the Force had lost all confidence in her and decided to turn away at any beck and call she had. She tried to think back to Master Kenobi’s teachings. You don’t guide the Force, Ahsoka. Let it guide you.

She frowned and shut her eyes tighter, reaching out but all she felt was what had been present for months. Cold, empty and dark. With the Jedi gone, despite all the reservations she had about the Order, it felt as if warmth and light itself had been snuffed out and she was stumbling blind now. No longer having the trusted hand of the Force, her troops, or her Master to catch her.

Ahsoka’s shoulders slumped and she opened her eyes. Missing Rex dearly and regretting sending him away for a moment before she shook her head. He had a new mission now, a new purpose and one that would actually bring light to the growing shadows.

One could say Ahsoka had that same opportunity dangling in front of her face. There was a rebellion growing, though slowly. At the moment there were only whispers but if one listened hard enough they were clear as day. And she could join them, strap sabers back to her hips and keep on fighting like the good soldier she had trained to be.

Yet if she went to them she knew they would expect a Jedi at their doorstep not… whatever she was. She wondered if they would turn her away since she had walked away from the Order during the war, many believing she was a Separatist and had lost her way. Though she wasn’t worthy enough to be deemed a new member of the Lost Twenty since she wasn’t a Master.

She scoffed and stood up, brushing the dust from her legs.

Not even worthy as a castaway.

A spark of hate ignited in her chest, pulling the air from her lungs and she squeezed her eyes shut again. Tightening her hold of pure will to keep the feeling at bay. Her mind went dark except for the dancing flame and it burned the hands of her soul as she tried to snuff it out. It should’ve been easy, just a pinch of her fingers to extinguish it yet it felt as if it were a furnace that would melt the skin right off her bones.

She didn’t hate the Jedi, she couldn’t. They had raised her.

And they turned their backs on you, a voice that sounded awfully like Anakin’s echoed around her. Only darker and oil-like, not at all similar to the man she knew. It frightened her and she screamed, clamping her hands down around the fire and she screamed through the pain until it finally went dark.

Ahsoka took in a shuddering breath and stumbled back, her spine colliding with a dresser and she sent half the contents resting on top of it to the floor. “Anakin.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant even. In the months she had been trying to find him, even just to feel the essence of him through the Force, she had come up blank.

After Order-66 she thought the worst, that he had perished in battle but she knew deep down that couldn’t be true. He was Anakin Skywalker, the Hero with No Fear, and she would’ve felt it. Just like she had felt the death of so many others during those fateful hours. The Force had gone dark, yet she knew there was someone.

They were always there, or maybe an it . She wasn’t actually sure, but sometimes if she was still enough it felt as though it was watching her.

Sometimes she wondered why she wasn’t frightened of this presence, it was looming and wasn’t offering anything that resembled comfort. It just observed, like it was curious to what she was doing and why.

Ahsoka never saw anything, no blur or outline. No faint blue figure that might be a Force Ghost that she had read about in the archives. There was no voice or shape to the thing.

It was just… there.

Ahsoka found out after a while that she didn’t want it to leave. In those silent and still moments she contemplated reaching out to it. Either physically or through the Force, but with how her luck had been going it surely wouldn’t be the latter.

She was always shrouded in the doubt that it was all in her head. She was just lonely these days and now through sheer will power she had conjured the essence of something to make her feel less isolated. In fact, when she thought about it, the feeling of the observer almost reminded her of her Master.

She shook her head and picked the fallen objects off the floor, placing them back neatly on top of the dresser.

It was strange, she hadn’t really owned anything before and she had no idea where to start. As a Jedi, you make an oath to rid yourself of all possessions to avoid the temptation of greed and attachment. Even after she left the Order she still found herself abiding by that lifestyle. It was foreign and unnatural, calling something her own.

Even now as she looked at the little trinkets she frowned, not sure if she was doing it right.

If you own something does it have to mean anything?

Ahsoka picked up a rock she had found on the side of a road, its surface weathered away and it showed layers of sediment. It was pretty and intriguing but… but what? She felt nothing as she held it and she wondered why people were so obsessed with the things they said belonged to them.

She set it down and walked over to her desk, hesitating a moment before opening the drawer to find the silka beads she had worn as a Padawan. She supposed they were hers but the memories that laid within them were too painful to think about and again she wondered why people felt the need to hold on.

That’s the Order talking, what do you really think?Anakin’s voice called out again and it made her head spin.

Ahsoka clenched her jaw and thought, allowing her mind to trail down paths that would’ve previously been forbidden. What did she think?

She could almost feel Anakin smiling. And, what do you want?

Shaking her head, she closed the drawer. Her Master had always been untraditional and she supposed that’s what made him so much more wonderful. He wasn’t limiting or dogmatic in his teachings. He wanted Ahsoka to be herself and she wished she could tell him how thankful she was for that.

What Ahsoka wanted, was to fix whatever was going wrong inside of her. There was a monster unfurling and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep it at bay. She wanted to find her Master. She wanted him to help.

Rubbing her fingers against her forehead she closed her eyes, pathetically reaching out to the Force in search of guidance but was met with a stretching void that did nothing but stare back at her blankly.

Ahsoka may have survived Order-66 but she feared something else inside of her might have died along with the other Jedi.

part two

[spacewombatty]

Shower Prompt

Anakin came back late.

It had been a month since his Knighting ceremony, but this was not his first time leading a battalion. He'd been Knighted because it wasn't his first time, but because he was one of the youngest in the order to. Many years before him, and, the war proceeded at planned years after him, the Jedi would be peacekeepers. A Padawan would rise in their ranks thanks to their emotional maturity, connection to the Force, their steady and unyielding compassion in the face of darkness.

During war, the Order needed warriors. If there was something Anakin excelled at, then it was his speed with which he cut down his enemies. The 501st third independent battle hadn't been that.

Anakin came back to the ship with his hair matted to his skull with blood. There was a gash that he'd failed to notice bleeding sluggishly down his cheek, along his neck, to pool and crust at his clavicle. His boots drag against the metal plating of the ship, and as if the staff on board knew what had happened, they didn't say. They parted.

Until today, General Skywalker boasted the fact his numbers hadn't been shaken since he'd taken command. Until today, the 501st were 580 strong.

Today, they'd lost twenty, in one fatal swoop of a Separatist tank bombing ambush. Half of the men who'd been killed were asleep.

The doors of the Jedi's bunk room opened with a hiss, Anakin's shadow darkening the doorway until they close behind him. The Knight paused long enough to make sure the doors were closed, and then kicked his boots off, and flung his saber from his belt in a fit of rage across the room. It stopped in midair--seconds from colliding with the ships metal walls.

And then it lowered, gentle, to rest horizontally on his pillow. "Those are quite expensive to fix, Padawan mine."

"I'm not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan," Anakin spoke to the dark. In the dim light from Nithe's largest moon, his former Master reclined easy against the nightstand beside Anakin's cot, his arms crossed. The moon lit up his face, but the Jedi didn't look for long. He didn't think he could stand the pity he'd find there.

If it had been any other person, the Knight might have had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught like this--bloody and angry at the galaxy with all it's inhabitants.

"What do you want?" he asked, tired. "Not today. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk battle, or strategies, and I don't want to meditate."

Obi-Wan laughed, and pushed himself up and off of the wall.

"Then I suppose we'll do none of that. I didn't come here to antagonize you, Anakin." He approached, slow and measured, until the Knight could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Obi-Wan had dressed down, clad in night clothes like he'd woken up for this.

"I came to make sure that you were alright, and found you still bloody," the Jedi murmured, tilting his head, guiding Anakin's gaze until their eyes met.

There was a pause, before the Knight sagged against him. It was all the excuse he'd needed.

Obi-Wan undressed him methodically, as methodical as if he were undressing with the intent to bandage. His hands were rough with callouses, and there was a faint scar running along his palm that when the ridge caught Anakin's skin made him shiver. Anakin sat on the bed, let the Jedi shrug him from his robes, hissed when his hands scraped a fresh wound. The older man caught his chin and tilted it to the side, assessing his face. Anakin let himself be guided. Obi-Wan didn't chide him staring.

They didn't speak, and that was it for Anakin, who's words left his lips in a clumsy tumble. As a kid, he'd envied his Master for his silver tongue. He'd hated his lessons, hated the mockery that came with the struggle, until Obi-Wan gathered Anakin's messy and fumbled words in his palm of his hands. The Jedi completed him in a way that made Anakin realize he hadn't been whole.

"Gently," the man said. The fresher was running, the Knight bare, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill. "Slow down. For once in your life, Anakin, go slowly."

They lowered him into the bath carefully, the brunette wincing as the heat seared his skin and then made itself at home in his bones. Obi-Wan looked ridiculous and uncomfortable, still clothed and dry, kneeling next to the bath with his sleeves rolled. This was testament to everything in their relationship--Obi-Wan's composure a stark contrast to Anakin's rougher edges. The Knight felt small and pitiful, and the sentiment rose the air on his neck, made him bear his teeth and hiss as the water splash at his skin.

Obi-Wan's palm came down, smoothing over his nape, and Anakin felt his the tension drain from his bones.

"Close your eyes, dear," his voice was steady. The Knight obeyed, eyes slipping closed.

And he didn't deserve this. His eyelids were stained with the images of the lost, the scenarios of what he could've done, what he didn't do, and what he'd failed to do replaying in his mind's eye like a broken record. It was marred, it was ugly, it was entirely preventable--and Anakin let death write their names across the surface of his heart like it could prevent them from being forgotten. One day, he'd hoped, it would be a worthy death to suffocate under their weight. One day, he'd put an end to it all.

If Obi-Wan had noticed--and Anakin's shields were abhorrent--he didn't say anything. The Master's hands slipped through Anakin's curls, nails dragging across his scalp, fingers tugging the mats loose carefully until he could massage the soap into a steady sud. The room heated, the Jedi's movements as methodical as the working of a clock, and all the anger Anakin had stored in his chest throughout the day melted away as easy as the soap in his hair.

Obi-Wan's presence was warm. It was all encompassing. It was the closest thing to home Anakin had left. The Knight let his shields fall until their signatures could touch and meld, his former Master's Force curling around his own like a cat demanding a scratch. It settled against the barrel of Anakin's chest, and he savored the way Obi-Wan always made it so difficult for him to breathe.

The Jedi's hands hadn't stopped moving. A groan slipped from Anakin's mouth, and a flick of water splashed against Obi-Wan's nose when he laughed.

Water spilled over his head--crept through his curls, heat spreading across his scalp. Obi-Wan repeated the motion until he was clean, until the water bled pink with tendrils of blood.

"They missed a spot on your chest," Obi-Wan commented. His fingers moved through Anakin's hair, shamelessly petting, winding a wet curl around his finger until it bounced free. The Jedi turned to look up at him.

Obi-Wan's features were soft, in the yellow light. The curve of his cheek was inviting, the hard edges of General being replaced with the man Anakin called home, and when the light hit his hair right it seemed to turn gold.

"Don't wanna get your clothes wet," The Knight mumbled, eyes wandering. "You might get cold."

"It may be hard to believe, but the cruiser had a functioning washer and heater."

As if that was permission enough, Anakin hooked his fingers in the front of Obi-Wan's clothes, and drug him down far enough to kiss him. He got lost in the feeling of the man's mouth on his, in the way his beard rubbed his scar raw, in favor of cupping the back of Obi-Wan's neck and drinking him in deeper.

They kissed, slow, and easy. The water around him bled, and when his Master finally pulled away breathless, it matched the rosy tint of his lips.

"Anakin."

"Don't," he pleaded. "Please."

Obi-Wan sat, and thought, reaching into the Force and picking through all of the reasons why they shouldn't. There was danger written in the air. They were on the losing end of a war where biases could mean death to an entire galaxy. There was inevitable loss written in the stars that the Knight must learn to cope with--and not all of it would be due to death.

But denying Anakin was never something he cared to be good at. Obi-Wan washed his hand, callouses dragging against his scalp, until his Padawan fell asleep curled into the curve of his hand.

[colibrie]

Meetings-Resonance, part I

As always, credit to @trilobitepunch for the phenomenal art!

Numb.

He was numb.

Leo vaguely remembered the first time he’d felt the numbness as a child. He had blurred memories of waking up crammed inside dingy cargo holds with his father and Mikey, his aching skull and freezing limbs a million miles away. The weight of his body had been an absent fact that buzzed at the edges of his consciousness but held no real meaning or importance. He had been somewhere else, somewhere quiet, and cold, where his thoughts dissolved into mist. The edges and limits of the world blurred in that place, sounds, smells, and touches inconsequential and ephemeral. He went where he was lead, stayed where he was put, a puppet on a pull string.

Splinter had been the one to explain it to him when he woke days later in an unfamiliar place, wrapped in a tattered blanket with Mikey glued to his side. A shattered sadness had sat heavy in his masters’ fathers’ eyes and voice as one paw had stroked Leo’s head, whispering how the temple had fallen, how only the three of them had escaped, how he had been hurt but everything would be okay so long as he rested. He cried for hours after that, matting his fathers’ fur as he clung to the older rat, wailing for his big brother and his twin. When the sobs had died down, he’d clumsily tried to ask about the numbness, only to be met with a shake of his father’s head.

“It will pass, Leonardo. Just give it time, and it will fade.”

It hadn’t. The numbness never went away. It became part of his life, a constant hollow that lived in his chest, nestled close to his heart. Some days the hollow was tiny, a barely noticeable shadow as he went about the day. But sometimes it would grow, a black hole in his core that would swallow him for hours, or even days at a time. It was uncomfortable, but not debilitating if he didn’t fight it. He’d learned quickly to never fight numbness. Instead, he’d learned to work around it, to move through watercolor worlds and smile brightly even when he couldn’t feel his lips. He’d taught himself how to return Mikey’s hugs and nod along to Splinters ramblings, to meter out just the right amount of jokes to keep the difficulty of speaking from becoming too obvious. He’d learned to cope, to be strong, to push through and carry on.

And yet here he stood, frozen and empty as the glare of a specter stripped him down.

“I never thought I’d see the day that silver tongue went silent, Leonardo,” Donnie noitsnothimitsnotpossible spat, venom dripping from every syllable.

Something slammed against the edges of the hollow inside of him, striking from all directions as the saber’s blade whyisitrednotredredwasraphscolor hissed through the air, crossing Donnie’s lithe body a gesture that was somehow both threatening and defensive all at once. The dark material of his armor swallowed the light, the helmet casting harsh shadows across the upper half of the specter’s face. They highlighted the burning eyes that dug into Leo, slamming against the numbness with the ferocity of a feral animal.

“Then again, you always ignored things that didn’t benefit you.”

ButnotyouneveryouIneverwould

Yournothimyoucan’tbehim…

But…the way his mouth twisted to one side to show a flash of teeth…Donnie had always done that when he was feeling frustrated or angry by something. The way his fingers clenched rhythmically around the handle of his saber…Donnie would do that when things got loud and stressful, usually while holding Leo’s hand under the cover of their robes.

Something new spiked inside of him, separate from the foreign presence still battering away at the edges of the hollow. This time the pressure was from within the black hole, a spear that gouged and surged through the numbness, expanding like a ballon until his lungs could barely pull in air. The misty silence that usually shrouded his thoughts dissolved under the frantic rush of blood through his ears as details flew at him from every direction.

The way Donnie stood; shoulders hunched forward. The creche master’s had always yelled at him to stand up straight.

It's not him.

The way Donnie spoke, words precisely and scathingly sharp, ready to cut at a moment’s notice.

It can’t be him.

The subtle details in Donnie’s expression. One’s that said he was hurt, no matter if he pretended otherwise.

Because the last time I saw him, he...

The balloon burst, obliterating the numbness, and the world along with it. The darkness that invaded his dreams draped the world in somber black, leaving only the two of them.

Or rather, the four of them.

Because over the shoulder of the armored Donnie was another. A child in torn and stained temple robes, looking over his shoulder at Leo with tear-stained cheeks and terrified eyes. He could just make out another figure to his side, just within his peripheral. A child with familiar red crescent markings on his scraped and bruised face, dressed in equally ruined robes.

The shadows slithered, twisting as they gathered to loom over both Donnie’s, bearing down in silent, deadly, threat. Donnie, both little and armored, opened his mouth in soundless screams, one of fear one of anger, as the shadows began to pounce. Something twisted inside Leo as the child next to him screamed too and threw out his arm, something that writhed and pulsed and squirmed to be set free. Something that…

The world went white as agony rushed filled the space left by the balloon, forcing his eyes to close, lest they implode with shift in pressure. Hands previously frozen as his sides flew to his head, fingers branding bruises into the soft skin of his scalp and palms clamping down at the temples to stop the seams of his skull from blowing apart.

This was the price of fighting the hollow. The price for not letting numbness have its way. Red hot knives and fridged ice picks slamming over and over into his brain. Broken glass that pierced and shredded muscles, sinew, and soul alike, painting his mouth with phantom flavors of despair and blood.

“There you are…”

“Leo?! What’s wrong?”

The words burned, and he flinched away, curling into himself as the pain gleefully dug into his sanity another inch.

“Leo!”

Voices overlapped over his name. Small voices, young voices, fearful and calling for him. For his help. But the pain had him tight between its teeth, and there was nothing he could do. No way to escape. No where he could turn…

“Come on LeeLee, talk to me man!”

LeeLee…?

Orange, brilliant and bold and fierce as the sun. Orange, loyal and warm and comforting, pressed to his side when the darkness swallowed him whole, no matter how deeply. Orange, loving and safe and…

“Mike-“

“NO!”

[hrodvitnon]

Ooh, Kaiju power theory- one of my brainrot specialties.

On Shimo: She's huge, said to be crazy physically strong, and manipulates ice. Already a nasty set of powers. But I'd like to divert attention to a few, potentially spoilery images (none of these are leaked images or screenrips- they're all official merch that's been officially revealed. Still, if you wanna go in blind then maybe click off.)

We've seen her on all fours most of the time- but that upright one is genuinely fucking scary. It's like if a saber-toothed tiger suddenly got on their hind-legs. And she's actively built to stand up like that, her relatively flat feet are proof of that. She's also not super bulky- she's just huge and more tall than thick. And that arm-length actually makes her look like she can dexterously hold stuff or is capable of more nimble feats than Goji is. I can actually imagine her boxing people out or engaging in very human-esque fighting, similar to Kong but like double his height.

So not only is she like a more well-rounded Godzilla on two legs, but she has what is basically an all-terrain assault form just by dropping down to four legs. Goji can do that too, but his arms just seem too small for it to be truly effective. Shimo's, again, built for both- so much so that we shouldn't be shocked if she breaks into full on four-legged sprints on the ground like, again, a tiger. And with claws like those, I wouldn't even be shocked if she can climb shit. Imagine looking up to one of the Hollow Earth's walls and seeing this shit perched on the walls like a 500 foot spider.

On Frostbite Breath: I'm willing to put money on the fact that the reason this ability is so crazy strong is that so many kaiju are adapted to warm or tropical environments. Kong grew up on Skull Island in the Tropics, Mothra's a giant arthropod from China, Rodan and Goji literally have fire or fire adjacent powers, and we even see the Great Apes chilling in Citadels surrounded by literal molten lava. We've yet to see a cold section of the Hollow Earth, too- so maybe there just literally is no snow down there and it's all similarly warm and temperate. That only makes the prospect of getting hit with a blast of impossibly cold energy so much more deadly, and possibly even lethal if the blast is sustained enough to freeze you completely. Given how old and supposedly experienced she is, I'm willing to be she can get crafty with it too. Ice Rinks to trip up enemies, erecting giant ice crystals that she can them climb on with those aforementioned claws, creating ice storms to act as Snowblinds to cloak her approach, maybe even using that Thaumigizer to smash her own crystals up into shards that act as broken glass. Fuck if she was really smart she'd smash one up and look for a shard big and sharp enough to act as the kaiju equivalent of a shank, hop into two-legged mode and have a knife-fight with Kong or something.

If Goji's adaptable, Kong and Skar are intelligent and/or cunning, then Shimo is Versatile.

(also the above merch are hoodies and a desktop mat respectfully. Some of the merch goes kinda crazy too like peak this shirt)

(good shit I'd wear that)

If the leaks come in merch form I don't mind, and honestly I'd like those shirts myself...

Honestly, the more we see and learn about Shimo the more impressive (and terrifying) she seems. And I'm not gonna lie, the mental image of Shimo stalking her prey while climbing a cave wall gave me Hereditary flashbacks - didn't see the whole movie, just bits and pieces from work, and let's just say that specific fucking shot fucked up both my sleep schedule and ability to sleep with the lights off for a while... damn, Shimo, Emile-A239 here said it best.

[isaackuo]

I can't find it now, but there was a funny clip of Daphne Keen trying to swing around a light saber that was too long for her. Like, it kept on bumping into the floor mat.

They were testing different light saber lengths to figure out how long Kelnacca's blade should be!

[land-of-appletun-and-anime]

Thoughts on The Shadow Rising

Same stuff as in all the reviews of course, Perrin battle, glass columns, etc. I wanted to share some things I haven't heard people mention. Mostly details and scenes that stood out to me.

My favorite scene in the book is when Egwene tells Rand to demonstrate channeling saidin and he pinches her on the butt with air from across the room. No notes.

Moghedien's introduction is so brilliantly written. It is terrifying. She's just upon the girls with no warning. Seeing Nynaeve of all people eagerly spilling secrets to please her is very powerful.

After Rand overcomes the bubble of evil, Egwene and Elayne see Berelain fleeing in terror and find him alone in the room with the furniture all slashed up and burned. This had to have been very sad and frightening for them because they know he's going mad and won't talk about it. To them it would appear he likely had some sort of episode since there was no evidence of any assailants.

Things I liked/found interesting:

The space within the Rhuidean red door Mat enters is decidedly sci-fi, similar to a spaceship (e. g. hexagonal hallways with dark walls and glowing strips of light along the corners). The humanoid fox person within indicates that their unsettling garb is made of human skin. Mat handles this all really well.

When Rand creates a wall of air to restrain someone, he notices the divide in the fibers of the carpet moving toward her as it advances. Cool detail.

The Mercedes hood ornament as a wondrous artifact of our time.

Moghedien implies the presence of inter-planetary travel during the Age of Legends. This poses the question, are there humans on foreign worlds watching this all go down?

In place of the seal Nynaeve discovers in the dream world, she instead finds on the red wooden stand an illusory weave. It's a pig figurine woven with flows of earth and fire so small that cobwebs seem big in comparison.

The black fluted rod ter'angreal is essentially a huge light-saber and Jeaine Sedai slices the palace's viewing hall in half with it.

The collar and "sad bracelets" show the heavy side of saidin madness. Nynaeve feels the sorrow of 3000 years of people watching their loved ones lose their mind. Powerful

Rand is exhausting himself climbing an endless staircase in the fold space and then sees Asmodean flying by on a platform and realizes he can do that instead.

[domwho11]

Revan sat on the floor and stared at nothing. His hair was matted and tangled, his eyes were bloodshot, his face was a mass of self inflicted bruises. When he had lost the Force, it was like a part of him had died as well. From a distance Revan could hear the sounds of people entering the Ebon Hawk. The former Sith Lord gradually became aware of someone in the room with him. It was Carth.

"We've uncovered the last Star Map and we now know the location of the Star Forge." said Carth.

Revan said nothing.

Carth scratched his head awkwardly.

"Look... I don't pretend to know what you're going through right now but the crew needs you. Bastila still needs you. I'm not much good at this kind of thing but you can still fight, even without your powers, right? You can try."

Revan said nothing.

"If you need me I'll be in the cockpit." said Carth.

"And... take care."

Carth walked out of the room. Revan was left alone. By and by, T3-M4 rolled up to him, bleeping and blooping. Revan gave a half smile and patted T3 on his head. T3 got to work cleaning up the room. As T3 did so, Zaalbar entered and engulfed Revan in a huge hug. Revan found himself hugging Zaalbar back.

"Thanks Big Z." Revan whispered.

Zaalbar handed Revan a bunch of grenades.

"<I still believe in you, Revan.>" he said.

"<You rescued me from those slavers.>"

"That goes for me too."

Mission was there. She flipped Revan a lazy salute.

"Big Z and me will stick by you to the end."

HK-47 entered the room. He carried two Sith troopers' severed heads. The assassin droid proceeded to put on a short play (doing voices for each severed head) about the futility of life and how the only real purpose of it was to kill meatbags. When he had finished Revan, Mission and Zaalbar gave an awkward smattering of applause. HK lapped this up and exited the room saying something about being the first great droid playwright.

Mission gave Revan a hug.

"I gotta get going, but I'll be here if you need me."

Mission left the room. Zaalbar squeezed Revan's shoulder in a bone-crushing grip.

"<Be well my friend.>" he said.

Then he left. Revan was left alone. After a little while he located his old lightsaber. Revan switched the laser sword on. A blood-red beam of light blazed forth. Revan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was this how he would always be remembered? A brutal, conquering Sith? Revan attempted some saber forms. Without the Force to guide him Revan was slow and clunky. He still had to try though.

"Be careful! You'll put your eye out with that!"

Revan turned. Jolee was there, a slight smile on his face.

"If I'm going to save Bastila and stop Malak I have to remember how to use this." said Revan.

Jolee snorted.

"There are other ways to fight. Let me tell you a little story..."

"Could you please skip to whatever advice..." began Revan.

"Shush!" said Jolee.

"Now where was I. Ah yes, the story. A long time ago, there was a certain, shall we say, less than legal fighting ring on the planet Quarzite. The only rule was, the combatants had to fight unarmed. No blasters, no lightsabers, that kind of thing. Anyway, the dueling ring's champion was a giant of a man named Janus. He could crush his opponents' skulls with one hand, and frequently did. One day Janus' opponent entered the ring, and he and the crowd burst out laughing. His opponent only had one arm. The cocky Janus thought it would be a walk in the park to defeat this one-armed competitor. So they locked up, but try as he might Janus could not outmaneuver this other man. He tried everything he could and he still couldn't beat him. The one-armed man flipped Janus to the ground and won the fight. Do you know why?"

"Why?" said Revan.

Jolee smiled.

"Because the one-armed man's Master only taught him one move. The only way to defend against that move was to grab your opponent's left arm. Which of course poor Janus could not do, as the man he was fighting only had one arm."

Revan smiled.

"That's interesting, but what's the point?"

"The point is; there is strength in weakness and weakness in strength." said Jolee.

"And there's more than one way to win a fight."

"I..."

Revan paused.

"I need time to think about this."

"Fair enough. But don't take too long. The galaxy isn't going to save itself you know."

With that Jolee was gone. Revan was left to think on his words. He did not have long to think as Canderous strode into the dorm.

"I'm not one for pretty words so I'll just come out and say it; get your head out of your ass." he said.

"I'll try and do that." said Revan.

Canderous snorted.

"Ha! A real warrior never tries. A real warrior does, or does not do."

The big Mandalorian tossed a small pouch to Revan, who tried to catch it but failed.

"These are some stims for when you feel like leading us again. You don't have to thank me. I'm here if you want something done right."

Canderous left. Revan opened the pouch. A dozen silver needles stared back at him, like tiny swords. Revan thought that if he just injected them all at once he would be free of this nightmare. (No.) He still had to try to finish what he had started.

"Excuse me, Padawan."

Juhani's soft, accented voice made Revan turn around. He smiled when he saw her (when was the last time he had smiled?).

"Hey Juhani."

"I just wanted to tell you... I will never lose faith in you. Even though you have lost faith in yourself. You saved me from the Mandalorians. And from the dark side. I trust that you will save us once more."

"I'm no saviour, Juhani." said Revan.

"Neither is Bastila. Neither is Malak. It's up to everyone, Jedi or not, to help make the galaxy the place we want it to be."

Juhani looked slightly taken aback. Revan went to her and touched her shoulder.

"I'm sorry if that came across as harsh. What I mean is, I'm not going to give up on you. Or on any of the crew. Even Malak. There has to be a way I can save both him and Bastila."

Juhani brightened.

"So you will fight alongside us once more?"

"Yeah. I may not have Force powers anymore but..."

Juhani hugged Revan. Revan was surprised, but he returned the hug. After a few minutes they broke apart.

"Come on." smiled Revan.

"We've got work to do."

[ghostymarni]

because I have no chill + I’m super stoked about this one!

my custom color “jedi fallen order saber mat” license plate frame arrived today! made by vanoaksprops on etsy

he’s my favorite ♥️✨☕️

added the corrie patch to my collection and finally put my fox bucket vinyl sticker on my truck

[imaybelactoseintolerant]

Commander Luthal

Chapter Eighteen: The Droid Factory

Word Count: 3278

Masterlist

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She could see the difference in fighting for your life, and sparing against her agemates more clearly than ever now.

On the mats, there was no real consequence to losing, save for a few bruises, and maybe a tender ego. In real life, it was worse; there was another blaster wound, this time on her outer right thigh, her body ached and begged for a reprieve she couldn’t give, lest she wished to die, and perhaps worst of all, her face and clothes were splattered in yellow blood.

Denal’s armour looked much the same.

The pair of them lead half of the 501st through the catacombs. Resistance was much sparser once they defeated the initial group of Geonosians, and for that Arwen was grateful. It was mostly just droids now, and she much preferred to hear the clatter of metal falling to the ground rather than the screeching of the natives as they drew their last breath.

Deactivating droids—albeit aggressively—she could cope with. Killing the Geonosians… would it have felt this bad if her master hadn’t just perished? Would it feel less like someone was peeling back the festering skin of a fresh wound, if Master Du was beside her?

“Left or right, Commander?”

“Right, Sergeant Denal, otherwise we’ll end up joining back up with Captain Rex’s forces.”

She kept her eyes ahead, only glancing away to check tunnel entrances as they appeared—she wouldn’t rely solely on the Force to warn her of an incoming Geonosian. She had already lost three men since entering the catacombs, she wouldn't risk any more.

Sergeant Denal was a constant presence at her left, his blaster rifle raised as they led half of Torrent Company forward. They had only run into a few small droid squadrons, and they had been easy enough to dispatch, but as they neared the droid factory she was sure they would run into more.

It had been her decision to split the company into two groups—they had a lot of ground to cover, several entry points, and already sparse resistance. Keeping the company together when they had so much to do, and so little time, wasn’t going to get the job done any faster.

Captain Rex agreed, and the two teams split to plant bombs in the factory, collect intel, and capture—or kill—the remaining generals.  The faster, the better. They had no idea if airspace was still being contested, and the signal in the catacombs was so bad that they wouldn’t be able to get an update until they neared the surface again.

As they rounded the corner, the blue light of her sabers reflected sharply back—metal. She came to a halt, and heard Denal take in a deep breath.

“There’s no signal on the comms, but I sent a message to Captain Rex with a timestamp of our arrival.”

“Maybe we’ll get some signal as we go through the factory. Keep an eye on it—we might be able to make contact with the command centre.”

“Yes, sir.”

The metal wasn’t entirely reflective, only in patches where the dust and sand had been disturbed, but it bounced the light of her sabers around far more effectively, and lit the way forward. Arwen squinted as she continued forward, sure that they would face resistance from droids soon. They could be anywhere, in abundance, waiting for them to fall into a trap.

But as Arwen exchanged looks with Denal—or his visor—she realised they couldn’t afford to remain cautious now that they had found the factory. Time was of the essence, and the longer they took, the less likely it was that they would get out. They picked up the pace, Arwen doing her best to extend her senses outwards, hopeful to catch any adversaries before they closed in on them.

She doesn’t flinch when a droideka rolls out into the path in front of them, doesn’t hesitate to throw one of her lightsabers 50 feet in front of her as it comes to a stop. She slices it clean in half, calls her saber back to her hand, and calls out to the group, “They’ll know we’re here. Eyes peeled, and check your fire in case we run into Captain Rex and his group.”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and Arwen led them into a hallway that split further to the right. If she remembered her glimpses of the schematics correctly, they should be heading in the direction of one of the many control rooms, which would also be near one of the power plants.

“Droids on our tail!”

She whipped around, whispering a curse under her breath. How hadn’t she picked them up with her senses? Why couldn’t she extend them even just a tiny bit beyond her immediate area? Why wasn’t she good enough—

Blaster fire rang out, bolts ricocheting off the durasteel walls and leaving behind harsh scorches. She couldn’t get easily to the front of the group to help, there was no cover, and she scrambled for a solution.

“Keep going the way we were headed,” Sergeant Denal called, “We’re almost at a cross section—we can use the corners for cover!”

Arwen pressed closely to the walls to let the men pass as best she could, feeling her hands shake with unused adrenaline. She was desperate to move, her legs twitching, but she reigned herself in. She could help, but barrelling through the men would only lead to more deaths than if she waited.

As soon as the men were clear, she began deflecting bolts back to the droids, covering the mens back as they retreated. With no fire coming from the clones, she could focus entirely on the droids ahead as she backstepped, not having to worry about accidentally blocking the clones' shots.

When their thundering footsteps came to a halt, she retreated back faster, eventually getting to a point where the men felt comfortable firing. She ducked behind one of the corners, surveying the men on each side.

Some injuries, a few burns from blaster fire, but from what she could tell nothing serious, and no deaths.

They were extremely fortunate.

She looked beyond, down the hall further to the right, and her eyes lit up. She could see a set of doors, and an access terminal in front of it.

“I think I can see a door to a control room,” Arwen called out. Denal’s helmet swivelled towards her as he stepped back for cover, letting someone else take his place.

“A power plant shouldn't be too far off then. We’ll finish off these droids, then get to work.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in his voice, “Anything from Captain Rex yet?”

“Nothing yet.”

They made relatively quick work of the droids, and soon made their way down the hall, stopping at the access terminal. Sergeant Denal huffed as he fiddled with the keypad, smacking the side of the terminal when it flashed red, ‘DENIED’ popping up on the screen.

“We need a keycode,” he stepped back, “Maybe those droids back there have it stored in their data banks—”

Arwen slashed through the terminal with one of her sabers, and the door slid open.

Denal was quiet for a few seconds, “Why didn’t you just do that in the beginning?”

Arwen gave a sheepish smile, “I wasn’t really sure if it would work.”

She pressed forwards before he could respond, finding the room empty. Nevertheless, a few men were stationed at the door, just in case, and the remaining people swept the room quickly. It took only a few seconds; the room was relatively small, and the only places to hide were beneath the computer terminals, which had all been left on.

Arwen wasn’t a slicer, and didn’t have much talent in regards to computers and programming, but like most padawans her age, she knew enough to get by. The fact that the computers didn’t require a password to access should have been clue enough that they wouldn’t find anything noteworthy here.

She sighed after ten minutes of scouring for information, deleted files, contact records, financial details, blueprints, anything, and looked at Denal, “Nothing here. Computers have been scrubbed clean.”

“Think we’ll have any luck in the other control rooms?”

“Hopefully, otherwise this will be a total bust.”

“Well, not a total bust, if you ask me,” she could hear the mischief in his voice as he reached into someone’s pack, pulling out a handful of explosives. Arwen whistled—explosives weren’t exactly her area of expertise, but she knew enough about them to know that these ones packed a punch, and were detonated remotely.

“Who's the lucky man who gets to click the detonator?”

“Me,” he said smugly. He threw one to her, which she caught easily with the Force, “Stick it under that desk, would you?” She did as she was told, and in minutes they were heading towards the power plant, which ended up being several hallways and another droid squad away.

The room was massive, but essentially empty, which made Arwen think they were holing up somewhere, probably with a general, if there was still one present. The company split into pairs to cover more ground, laying out explosives intermittently in the places they would do the most damage—beneath a power coil, along a gas line, atop a case with flammable liquid.

They departed the room in quick time, all clones accounted for, and continued their way through the factory. They bypassed any droid processing areas—too many droids, too few safe areas to traverse, too much risk—and encountered few enemies on the way.

They found three more control rooms, two more power plants, and the longer they travelled uncontested, the more on edge Arwen got. The hair on her neck stood on end, and her grip on her sabers was white-knuckled. She couldn’t even tell if it was the Force telling her to be on guard, or her own paranoid mind.

Regardless, her paranoia came in handy when, after slashing  through a terminal to a main control room, several blaster bolts came right for her. She deflected them with some difficulty, but they just kept on coming.

The clones were already clear of the doorway, unable to be closed, so Arwen backed off too, “Anything from the Captain yet? We might need some backup here.”

“I’ve tried a few more times, still nothing. We’re on our own.”

“Don’t suppose we have any droid poppers left?”

“Just three, sir, and it won’t be enough.”

Arwen peeked her head around the door, trying to take a quick headcount of their adversaries—dozens of B1’s and B2’s, two droideka’s, a general—and ducked back just as a blaster came zipping past. She could feel the heat of it as it zapped by her forehead, “Definitely not enough,” she hadn’t even gotten through half the room, “But I think I saw a door on the other side.”

“A second entry point? Was it guarded?”

“About the same as this one, but it could give us the advantage. And we need to cut off their exit anyway—I saw their general.”

“Not a droid general, I take it?” At his words, Arwen shook her head. Denal sighed, and she watched his helmet tip back, “Why do we never get the easy ones? I heard Captain Keeli say their last two droid forces were led by another droid, and they were easy pickings.”

She didn’t humour him with a response, but couldn’t stop the small smile on her face. They split their already divided force into two, Arwen and Denal remaining where they were. Once the others got to the terminal, they would blast it to gain access, which would hopefully distract them long enough for Arwen and Denal’s men to toss the droid poppers in with at least a little bit of accuracy. From there, they would take out as many droids as they could, press forward when they had the room, and hopefully take the general captive so they could gather some intel.

The clones took plenty of shots when they could, never allowing the droids or the general to get comfortable or strengthen their defences, and Arwen was surprised to see just how many they had managed to pick off as they waited for their team to get into position. Not enough to push forward, of course, but enough to litter the floors and cause issues for droids trying to reposition, especially the much less manoeuvrable B2’s.

Arwen kept a close eye on where the general was hiding—she had seen him duck beneath one of the desks, and could just see the mustard colour of some of his clothes peaking out. He was Kerkoiden—not a species she could say she had seen man of throughout her travels as a padawan—and she could hear him barking out orders to the droids, though was unable to actually make out any words over the blaster fire.

She got no warning from the Force when the doors on the other side of the room shot open, but it didn’t mean she jumped into action any slower. As soon as the majority of the droid forces turned to begin covering the backs, Arwen signalled for her men to throw the droid poppers.

She aided with the Force where she could, but got distracted part way through when a bolt from a droideka nearly clipped her ear. Luckily, her men had good aim, and the sudden electrical charges took at three of the four droidekas, and a good number of B2’s

They would make quick work of the rest. Her eyes flickered over towards the doors, and she saw Captain Rex and his men file in—they’d finally caught each other.

As the numbers thinned, Arwen finally went into the room, taking cover behind the thick metal of the desks where possible, and the clones followed her lead. The general, whatever his name was, was suspiciously quiet now that backup had arrived. He’d likely realised there was no getting out of this, and hoped to remain hidden and safe underneath his desk.

The last droideka was still firing, but it was on the opposite end of the room to the general, and so were most of the remaining droids. If she could get to the general, she could get him to call the remaining droids off—it wouldn’t exactly be a moral victory, as their enemy wasn’t sentient and being spared from death, but if it stopped the fight early it could potentially save a few clones some injuries, maybe even their lives.

She didn’t call out her plan, lest they hear it and begin trying to regroup, and began cutting through the droids in her way. More than a few blaster bolts came her way, but in the thinning numbers, they were easy to deflect. She could sense Denal directly behind her, offering her cover fire, where she offered deflection.

Finally, she passed the last isle of desks, leaning down, sabers aimed towards the place beneath—

“The general’s gone!” She yelled, gritting her teeth, “There's a vent here—he must have escaped through it.”

“Where does it lead?” Captain Rex asked from across the room.

Arwen eyed the open vent space with trepidation, and stuck one of her sabers down slightly. The metal reflected well, but not well enough to see, “Down,” she replied, and eyed the hook and cable wedged into the floor. She lifted it slightly with the Force, trying to see if there was any weight attached to it, if the general was still hanging on the other end. It had plenty of slack, and she sighed, “There’s a cable attached. I’m going down too!”

“Wait, sir—”

She disengaged her sabers, leaning down and sitting on the edge, her feet disappearing into the darkness, “I won’t be long—I’ll meet you back up here shortly.”

“Commander—”

She slid into the vent, and began a quick descent, not bothering to grip the cable, and instead extended her senses outward. She’d have to catch herself.

She took a peek upwards as she fell, and saw a shape cloud the little light that came from the top of the vent—Denal, if she had to guess. The cable moved slightly, and she hoped he had a good grip.

Her senses flared as the bottom neared, and she slowed her descent with little difficulty. She landed steadily on her feet, and quickly climbed out of the vent directly in front of her—

She rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the head. It made contact with the wall instead, leaving a burn behind. She peeked out from behind her cover—another desk—and caught the general making a run for the door. She stood and reached out a hand towards a metal cabinet next to the exit, using the Force to nudge it out of place until it tipped on its side and blocked the door and terminal.

Finally, the general turned to her, blaster raised shakily towards her. She ignited her sabers. His red eyes glinted, a stark contrast to the blue skin, and she thought she saw his mouth trembling in fear. Guilt wracked her, and she lowered her sabers slightly.

A Jedi’s first instinct should not be violence.

“Surrender now general,” she heard Denal’s feet make contact with the vent floor, and watched the Kerkoiden twitch as his red eyes snapped to find the sound, “A peaceful surrender will get you much more sympathy when it comes to trial.”

His upper lip curled in disgust, and he shook his oddly shaped head—cone-like, until it tapered down to his nose and jaw. He bared his lower tusks at her, “I won’t surrender, padawan. I’d rather die.”

He fired his blaster, and Arwen leapt to the side, her saber just managing to catch the bolt before it made contact with Denal as he exited the vent. Her eyes narrowed at the Kerkoiden as he scrambled to hide behind another desk.

At least she could tell he wasn’t going for another vent, as he periodically raised his blaster above the desk to shoot randomly towards them. She began deflecting shots—and it almost felt easy. One person was nothing to defend against, and his rate of fire was nowhere near as rapid as the droids she used to practise against.

Denal came up beside her, and when his helmet tipped in her direction, she looked at him. He gestured for her to go right, and he would go left. She nodded, but began speaking.

“Final warning, surrender and submit yourself to justice under the Republic.”

He started cackling, and the shots stopped. She froze, the sudden silence eerie, and watched Denal stop walking. On either side of the desk, Denal nodded to her—

The Kerkoiden general leapt out from his hiding space, firing off several shots at Arwen that she easily deflected, then turned to Denal. Her heart raced, she reached a hand out—to do what, she didn’t know—but Denal fired at the same time he did.

The generals shot missed by a hair as Denal ducked, but Denal’s landed square on his chest.

She took a deep breath, tried to ignore to echoing scream in the Force as something else was gouged out, and Denal lowered his blaster. When he spoke, his voice was stiff, “What’s that?” His foot nudged a small device with a flashing red light. It was plugged into the computer. Arwen knelt down, pointedly avoiding even looking at the body before her, and read the aubresh letters across the small screen aloud.

“Factory lost, intelligence wiped. Enemy explosives planted. Requesting immediate evacuation for General Lhone Grosque… Distress signal received. Evacuation request denied. Bomb squad en route, ETA unknown.”

[clonemedickix]

OC General Lara Lin (Telperion Laurelin), Commander of the Dragon Company, Guardian of the Balance and Guide of Souls

Dragon Company 1st Officer: Lt Primer

Dragon Company Sergeants: Boost and Deuce

Dragon Company Chief Medical Officer: Volte

Things about Lara: An immortal goddess, created to guard the Balance between the Light and the Dark. The source of the Force, living and cosmic. Created by Eru Iluvatar as a safeguard and ultimate weapon against enemies such as Morgoth the Deceiver, his lieutenant Sauron, and any in that vein. A visitor to the Star Wars galaxy, there to offer her assistance in their war.

Personality: feisty, generally happy if not slightly jaded. A little crass at times, spends most of her time off duty in the American South and so speaks with a drawl mixed from Northeast Louisiana/Southeast Texas (think if Duck Dynasty mated with east Texas). Known to occasionally let fly with curse words. Not above a little pranking, especially against people that annoy her. Loyal, capable of deeply loving, a strong, agile and experienced warrior. Does not handle the loss of loved ones well; swore off personal relationships for this reason. A complete sucker for a clone in uniform.

Rating: EXPLICIT

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence / Adult Themes and Relationships / UNDER 18 DNI

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon)Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media TypesThe Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. TolkienGame of Thrones (TV)Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationship: CT-7567 | Rex/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: CT-7567 | Rex | CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo | CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives | Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) | CC-2224 | Cody | Obi-Wan Kenobi | Mace Windu | Clone Troopers (Star Wars) | CT-5597 | JesseCT-6116 | Kix | Clone Trooper Hardcase (Star Wars) | Cut Lawquane | Suu Lawquane | Yoda (Star Wars) | Plo Koon | CC-3636 | Wolffe | Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious | Padmé Amidala | Ahsoka Tano

Excerpt:

The sound of lightsaber on steel rang through the room as Lara and Skywalker fought in the ring. Rex saw Ahsoka Tano standing by Cody, watching the sparring match; Lara’s lieutenant, Primer, was also there watching in silence, almost as if coaching her movements. Lara needed no coaching, but he knew Primer’s heart was in the right place; he of course wanted his general to win. Rex stepped up quietly to stand next to Cody’s other side. The door behind opened once more and General Kenobi walked in, his face full of curiosity. Kenobi walked up to watch with the other spectators, on Primer’s right side, cheering very quietly as Lara blocked a blow from Anakin he’d aimed at her back; she’d reached back with her great sword to protect her rear and then spun quickly away from him, bringing her short sword around to take her own swipe at him. The two danced around the fighting ring, graceful and sure in their skills; everyone could tell they were enjoying their battle. Anakin used many Force assisted leaps and flips to stay out of her range, while Lara used her quickness and reach to close on him frequently. She knew more tricks than he did, and she spun beneath his saber, her mail shirt’s small skirt flaring in the air. She took a couple quick steps, dropped to her knees and slid beneath Anakin, flaring backwards and bringing her two swords up together as a single instrument to block, then she hopped back up to her feet and spun, leaping and swinging one powerfully aimed boot around to kick Anakin square in his chest. It knocked the wind right out of him and he collapsed to the mat with a thud. Obi Wan laughed out loud; he always loved to see his old padawan bested in a match. Ahsoka groaned; she had thought he had a chance this time, but towards the end of the fight she’d seen Lara’s concentration increase, realizing that as usual she’d only been dedicating about half of her skill to the game.

Lara took a breath; the fight had been hard enough that she was slightly winded, and felt it had been a very good contest this time. She put her great sword back in its sheath over her shoulder and reached her hand down to Anakin to help him up. He groaned in a little laugh, took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. “I’m going to have your boot print on my chest for a week, Lara.” He rubbed it carefully; she’d kicked him about as hard as an angry mule.

Lara smiled at him and replied very quietly, so only he heard her, “Be sure to tell Padme it’s from me.” She winked at him with an even bigger smile as he laughed at that rejoinder. They turned to move over to their spectators, and Lara glanced towards Rex, seeing him watching her quietly. She paused only for the tiniest fraction of an instant, seeing his face, then she moved over to Primer and Cody.

“That was a great move, General. I’ll have to see if I can copy it next time we fight.” Primer took her hand in a warm move of greeting.

Kenobi smiled at her and nodded. “I think we could all learn a thing or two from your fighting styles. That was a good match to watch. Good to see you back, as well, General Lin.” He gave her something of a wistful smile, and tipped his head in a way she knew was mean to convey condolences for her loss.

“Thank you, Obi Wan. I wish the circumstances were a little happier, but it’s good to be back.”

“Yes well, since you ARE here, I’m sure we can find some way to put your skills to use. Anakin, we are needed at the Temple. Ahsoka, you too.” He looked to his fellow Jedi, about like a mother hen herding her chicks toward the coop. Anakin gave Lara a little fist bump as he walked off with Obi Wan; she knew she’d see them in the next few days and they would update her on any needs or deployment plans. Kenobi walked a few paces away and then stopped, turning back to Lara. “Oh Lara, I meant to ask you - General Windu received a strange crate of supplies the other day on deployment from the quartermaster; it seems a large satchel of rubber phalluses in assorted sizes and colors arrived to him, with a note that said ‘Eat me.’ You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

A huge whoop of laughter escaped Anakin before he could stop it; he covered it by suddenly faking a coughing fit into his sleeve and looking away. Ahsoka asked him, “What’s a ‘phallus’?” Obi Wan’s eyes cut over to Ahsoka and Anakin quickly, his brows scrunching together in what he hoped was a signal to get her moving. Anakin put a hand around Ahsoka’s shoulders and steered her toward the door, still choking on his laughter and tears running down his face.

Primer and Cody both heard the short conversation and their eyebrows about touched the ceilings; they looked at Lara’s face and saw her head suddenly come up, a tiny smirk lit the corner of her mouth and then her countenance went carefully blank, an expression of consternation and shock in her eyes. “I can’t IMAGINE who would do such a thing, Obi Wan! How the neighbors will talk! I do declare!” She drawled the words out, doing her best to keep her appearance one of innocent, amazed outrage and surprise. Kenobi stared at her flatly, waiting for her to finish her little play. “For heaven’s sake….? Bless his heart?…. No? Not working for you?” She finally gave him a little smile while showing her teeth in an exaggerated grimace and cocking her head a little to look from under her lashes.

”You’re a terrible moral example, Telperion Laurelin.” Lara gave him a very false but endearing look of contrition, and Obi Wan turned to leave. He called back over his shoulder, “Next time, don’t sign the requisition ‘Hugs and kisses, Obi Wan’, please.” Lara pursed her lips together as hard as she could to hold in the laughter that wanted to escape, until the door closed behind him. Then she sputtered out in giggles, made even worse when she looked over at her lieutenant and Kenobi’s clone commander. They were both still staring at her like they didn’t know what to do with her. The laughter in her eyes made it hard for them to hold it against her, plus… it was pretty funny. The two men shared a look and then shook their heads at her incorrigible actions.

[richardhandelcarpfishing]

Being Prepared

I like and feel that you need to be prepared for the captures before they actually happen. This is why one of my main jobs after casting the rods out is to organize my weighing and photography equipment and line it up with the unhooking mat. I have a Saber Fishing Weigh Tripod which I attached an underwater diving light, this is great for my nighttime photographs. The tripod is positioned to…

[caracarnn]

He hadn't fully expected Mat to tag along. Of course he knew that he was all talk, all action but sometimes some of the things that he said hit harder than they should have. He was all complaints when maybe he shouldn't be. All complaints and agitations while Rand just tried his best to keep arguments and the like to a total minimum. They hadn't known one another long but somehow Rand had already noted all of his characteristics. Mat wasn't really as complicated as he assumed that he was.

A smile touched to the corners of his lips the moment that Mat lifted his blaster and started onwards. Somehow that made him feel a bit more confident, having him at his back. Somehow that eased the torrent of uncertainty that filled him whenever he had to face something using his saber and the Force. He wasn't actually ready for this sort of thing, he hadn't even been trained all the way. But, he knew as well as many others, that going headfirst was sometimes the best thing to do to push forward.

With a heavy intake of breath he stepped up to the veil of flowers that were hanging down. The scent was heavy, thick, and it filled his chest almost distastefully. He didn't like the heady scent but it clung to him the whole way through the veil, making sure to leave it somewhat parted so that Mat could follow after him clearly.

It was so quiet it almost made him uneasy. His hand felt sweaty on his lightsaber, the blue crystal shining bright against the glum look around them. His heart had begun to race in his chest and his footsteps were light and hesitant. He wasn't entirely sure what to do or what he was meant to really be looking for but he knew this was the place. His intuition told him as much.

He glanced back at Mat and then gestured ahead. There was a small building there, they would have to duck to get in through the doorway. It was dome shaped and made of a dark stone. The flower from outside seemed to cover the top of this hovel, covering what might have been seen of the sky. He took down a breath and then moved forward, retracting his saber and moving to the dark building, reaching his hand out to open that small door. Could he even fit?

"Ready?"

this was a new place, somewhere undiscovered for him. he couldn't deny that he liked looking around the place and seeing everything unfamiliar. the place had a feeling of being abandoned. large bases empty, long stretches of fields and trees that seemed never ending. the heat of the moons crating a thick layer of sweat over them, the way that they had to carefully take each step. the air is thick, with something like a perfume on it. it's a strange scent. not one that he would like to linger long. just one that seems to drift in the air, making his head pound almost painfully. but regardless of the obvious danger under the ground, the eerie feeling of emptiness there was something exciting about being out here. that was something he liked about being a go between. he got to see almost everywhere.

although this wasn't really the type of place he would've chosen for his vacation. no, thank you. especially not with the company either. rand walking ahead acting like he didn't need him. even though he wouldn't be here if it weren't for mat. and not to mention how fast he had gotten them here. well, outside of the detours. but he had only taken those before rand had even told him what he was doing. he would've been here a lot sooner if he hadn't gone around acting like it was his bloody duty to help rand out. that wasn't how these sorts of arrangements worked. and mat was still expecting some payment for all of it.

but for now they had to make sure that the mission got done. and done right, with rand in one piece. the bloody idiot seemed to think it was smart to going running ahead into any place he thought that he had to go. like that forest ahead, with the strange trees and that perfumed scent is growing even more stronger. making him feel a little dizzier with each step. running into that clearing is the last thing that he wanted to do.

he thinks that if he were to mention that though - well, then rand wouldn't let him live that down. even though he was telling him about how he didn't have to go out there with him. just waiting for him to play coward or something like that. he didn't think so. he wouldn't let rand simply walk away with this one.

when rand starts his eyes drift towards him. watching him as he draws his weapon, the grip he had on it, the sure way he moves forward. the look of determination written across his face. he doesn't respond for a moment, just watching him before he's reaching for his own weapon. his blaster there at his hip. he raises it as he joins in the approach. in spite of the uneasiness growing in him. "well, if i want this over fast i figured i had to go with you…." he says with a small scoff as he takes a step ahead of rand.