#light saber tattoo

[catladychronicles]

🌞

[mccolejess]

[rhi-reads-and-writes]

My therapist didn't find it funny that I want to get a light saber tattoo on my self harm arm

[athunderstryke]

Gideon the Ninth Star Wars AU.

basically I was brain rotting the other day...

I thought the cult/witchy vibes of dathomirian nightsisters/brothers had pretty ninth house energy. The face painting is the face tattoos. Necromancy is the study of force magic (maybe in this certain cabal (?) they practice a certain dark side part of the force were its sorta necromancy stuff.) And also this certain cabal uses light sabers but only in a duo dynamic. There's gotta be a force magic user and an experienced light saber fighter in a unit to be considered a complete force balance fighting duo. Idk. (Ignore the fact that I gave Gideon horns(I thought it was cool, I didn't realize only biological males have horns in Star Wars canon)) Also, Kylo Ren shouldn't be the only one with cool cross guards on his lightsaber.

[david-talks-sw]

I got a good feeling about "The Acolyte"

Not even kidding. Like, I've spoken before about why I'm wary of it.

George Lucas' Star Wars is something that intentionally has black and white morality, rather than shades of gray. Those movies are meant for kids and projecting a "gray" morality onto them then proclaiming it was George's vision all along is doing so in bad faith.

The narrative of the Prequels doesn't frame the Prequel Jedi in as negative a light as Leslye Headland, Dave Filoni, etc etc do.

See here for more details, but bottom line: yeah, a show that has a darksider as the underdog is bound to demonize the Jedi (who are the actual underdogs in the Prequels), and obviously that rubs me the wrong way.

BUT.

The trailer looks fucking cool. It really really does.

And more importantly? I've done some research... and Leslye Headland is ticking a lot of good boxes, in my book.

1. The Acolyte won't be a 10-hour movie.

I've criticized Disney Plus shows before, explaining that a big source for most of their issues is that these series are being structured as "long movies" rather than, y'know, actual shows.

But in this interview with Collider, Headland addresses that: it'll be a series. Not a long movie that you need to watch across four weeks.

Thank God. You have no idea how much that comforts me. Finally a showrunner who's, y'know, actually running a show.

And this goes hand in hand with what she told IGN, here, about how she's going about building suspense.

Yes! Exactly! That's how it's supposed to be!

Like, compare this to Baylan Skoll's storyline in Ahsoka.

In no possible way was that emotionally-fulfilling. For 8 episodes we had no idea what he was after, and the season ended where we still don't know. What does he want? What is he after? Your guess is as good as mine, it's something Mortis-related.

So yeah. Maybe getting the Emmy-nominated trained screenwriter on board to run this was a good idea.

2. Maybe the Jedi will not be as demonized as I originally thought.

Don't get me wrong. 80% of what she says about the Jedi makes me cringe. It's the typical fan's interpretation and y'all know I disagree with that interpretation.

It's painful to see her refer to the Jedi as an institution (not how the Prequels' narrative frames them) and to see her frame "Balance" in the "oh there's so many of them and just two Sith, that means the Force is out of balance" meaning... but at least she acknowledges the Jedi are a benevolent institution.

They're not an "elitist force hiding in their ivory tower" as others have described the Jedi.

Moreover, there'll be a variety of Jedi POVs, many personalities.

Yord Fandar, is described as a strictly by-the-book Jedi Knight and guardian from the Jedi Temple, is an overachiever and a rule follower.

The question now becomes: will the narrative frame him as "your typical Jedi" or is it just this one guy? I'm hoping it's the latter.

I also like how her reasoning goes re: Jedi drawing their lightsabers.

Which explains the hand-to-hand combat seen in the trailer.

This teenager is coming at Carrie-Ann Moss with a dagger, of course the Jedi won't draw her saber.

3. She's a fan of Star Wars... but a screenwriter first.

You can tell in the interviews she's a fan. She's using words like "BBY" and "EU" casually. In the above-linked interviews she's bringing up the Nightsisters, Timothy Zahn, The Clone Wars, she mentions she has a tattoo of Ralph McQuarrie's concept art of Leia, the High Republic books, etc.

She's done her homework. She's a fan.

But the vibe I'm getting from these interviews is that she's weaving in these various lore-elements in a more organic way, rather than in the "fan-servicey" way Dave Filoni has been doing in his shows.

The references and Easter Eggs will be there, but the narrative won't bend over itself just so you can get it. Crafting a good story comes first, and Andor is a beautiful illustration of why this is true.

Which is why I was never bothered about one of the writers never having watched Star Wars before getting the job. You need those fresh eyes when you're tackling something of this scale.

That makes sense to me. Maybe it's because of my own screenwriting experience, but yeah. That out-of-the box perspective is precious.

And like, obviously, that writer watched the films eventually, but for some reason everyone who bitched about Headland omitted that detail and opted for a more bad faith interpretation.

Hm. Wonder why.

Maybe it's the same reason that months ago this clipped audio circulated socials without context, in which she debates whether Star Wars only came from George Lucas and only Lucas is the key.

The FULL context of that interview reveals that she's actually:

debating the "autheur director" myth and positing that it was achieved by a collective of excellent filmmakers and craftspeople that George was skilled and smart enough to recruit...

the studios now think it's a simple as hiring one guy and throwing money at him, because they have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. See Napoleon (2023) for example.

Yes, she also does a jab to the Prequels, which speaks to the generation of fans she's a part of... but overall she's giving Lucas props whilst also stating an ideological difference, that's it!

George is a proponent of the "autheur" theory, Leslye isn't.

However, guess what, in like half the talks George gave post-selling Star Wars? He's giving shoutouts to everyone who helped make the first film, even remembering their names.

So I'm not even sure he'd vehemently disagree with Leslye, in fact they'd prolly have a conversation about it and immediately bitch about how stupid studio executives are :D

But that's not as incendiary, is it? Again, the more I do the research, the more it feels like the reason most of these influencers are hating on her is purely sexist.

I mean, on IGN she's even acknowledging that she does plan on taking stock of fan reactions for Season 2.

It's not a guarantee that she'll incorporate the feedback, but at least that's more consideration than, say, JJ Abrams or Rian Johnson gave the fandom.

She's even bringing the moral ambiguity that the Gray Jedi-loving edge-lords love so much.

"No, she's a woke feminist! Anything she does is evil! Eww, girls!"

🙄

Needless to say... I'm gonna give it a shot.

I think it's gonna be a good show, I think it's gonna be a solid story.

I'm crossing my fingers that they won't as biased against the Jedi as it seems they'll be. Even if they are... if it's still an enjoyable experience, I'll gloss over it.

As @gffa states in this post:

Worst case? It's not a story from George. I can dismiss it from my headcanon without a moment's hesitation :D

[jukti-torko-golpo]

Kalki - Concept

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ UNDER THE CUT.

So I got a prompt...banana leaf green+futuristic...and this idea struck. This is a rough sketch that I will hopefully make a final version of. Below is the explanation as dumped on a friend on whatsapp at 3 AM.

this is KALKI He is drawn as a non binary She has an appearance of what people frown upon and judge ekhon piercing, heavy tattoos, black, side buzz cut etc jewellery will be punkified version of some traditional jewellery like makar kundal punk version OF that kalki is said to have a sword and kalki alternatively refers to light which cleans up the darkness hence a light saber style sword which crackles with lightning and it is white symbolising knowledge and purity on their sword wala arm is a tattoo of Ananta sesh naag and the other one has the tattoo of a shankha on his chest is a lotus symbolising Lakshmi because they are cutus that way dark lipstick and heavy almost drag kind of eye makeup looks like a rebel young person symbolising that the collective youth when they fight for knowledge and what is right against generations of mistakes and oppression…they become the actual Kalki. this is a concept art. forgive me for ranting at 3

[soukokvn]

Im back to share something from the Law light novel >:)

In the second chapter there’s the moment where Law gets his first tattoo, being the « DEATH » one on his hands.

At first everybody think that it’s something edgy cause he’s kind of a loser yk especially during pre time skip BUT I think that the real signification behind is so nice.

« I did not choose it for a particularly deep reason.

But as a doctor, I always need to feel death by my side.

For people to live…

For the people I care about the most to live…

For all these reasons, I wanted to constantly remember that I am closer to the death than a whole bunch of individuals. »

It’s so like him idk it’s so :(((

(Bonus : he also thought about tattooing himself brightly colored flowers, a saber or an "impressive gun")

[zeenmrala]

pairing: lord maul x gn!reader word count: 850 summary: lord maul interrupts your nighttime stroll in the woods  a/n: soft soft soft with a sprinkling of angst. yes its a forest and a moon ok im consistent if anything. feels good to be back ♡

Serenity ☾

The night you feel his hands for the first time, the moon is a beacon of hazy light in the darkness of the sky, the full power of its cosmic glow restricted by thick clouds that stubbornly linger around it, as though they refuse to leave her naked and bare to the mercy of an army of stars. The air is rich with the scent of moss, the cool breeze sensual on your skin, the taste of fresh earthy water lingering in the damp air. You are meandering in the forest by taking slow and lazy steps further and further into the depths of the trees. You clear your head. The nighttime is of freedom, a time of agency that you cannot claim anywhere else.

You sense him before you see him. Feel him. His hard eyes, heavy and imposing on your back. Then you hear the whirring mechanics of his cybernetics, the usual mechanical thud of each metal footstep softened to a quiet thump by the dirt of the forest floor. You turn around, taking in the shadow of him, the gleam of his eyes, the overbearing darkness of his presence.

“What is it you seek?” Maul asks softly, sensing your motivations for being here. His voice is a rich purr, each word he uses more decadent than the last. 

There is a pause as you acclimate to his presence, and he moves slowly forward.

“Peace, my Lord,” you whisper honestly, bravely. You are aware that your response will infuriate him. “I seek peace.”

He has sauntered close enough that you can now see his lips pull into a muted smile. “You believe such a…notion exists?”

“You do not?” you counter coyly, your eyebrow slightly raised in genuine curiosity. 

He is silent for a time as he considers you. His eyes grow darker. 

“What is it you believe?” He almost spits the question, his chronic fury tainting the sentence. He avoids the word. Peace: he cannot seem to say it. The word he views only as a mockery of his existence. 

 “Choice.” Your voice quivers in the face of his bitter anger. He grunts in disapproval, but you persevere. “Peace is chosen.”

You can sense him as he seethes at your words, but you are overwhelmed with your own sentiment. You swallow your fear and step forward, taking his hands in yours in one swift movement. You squeeze his gloved fingers as you pour all the comfort you wish to give him into his eyes through your own.

“Just tonight,” you implore him, “let me choose.”

He scowls in response, though he does not pull away.

“It’s here,” you take his right hand in both of yours, hastily removing his glove. “Peace is here, for me. I can take it. It’s in your skin.”

He suddenly turns rigid, and you begin to hesitate, doubting how forward you are being tonight. How inappropriate. You let go of his hand and lower your eyes. You hear nothing for a few agonising moments, your focus centres only on the softness of his breathing. Then you hear a brief rustling. Heat burns your cheeks in embarrassment, at a loss of what to do next.

He takes your hands, both of his hands gloveless, his bare skin now touching yours. You feel a dropping sensation sear through your middle, disbelief roaring in your ears. You cannot seem to bring your eyes to his, not in such an unprecedented, intimate moment. So you look at his skin, interpret the stories told in every line, scar, tattoo.

You absorb his hands in a rush of detail beneath the bleary moon. Each of his fingers are varying shades of discoloured crimson, faded pink in places, and the broken washed-out ink of his tattoos are uneven and aged. His nails are long, dark and sharp. His palms are coarse and rough, the least pigmented in colour, the repeated use of his weapon and the years of his life having worn down the vibrancy of his skin tone. You imagine the durasteel of his saber to be stained red in return. You envision the years of his life, so rich with the scarlet that has been leached from his hands, a trail of blood red anguish representing all of that life that has been stolen from him.

You take his wrist and place his palm to your cheek, relishing in the consoling warmth of his skin. Your heart fastens in pace and your breath quickens as he takes your hand and mirrors your movement. You feel the gentle ruggedness of his face beneath your own palm. You stand together, silently entwined in the most intimate of interactions either of you have ever experienced.

You bring yourself to look up and into his eyes: they are glowing, blazing with a promise of regret. A storm of frustration and resentment. They ache with the words that he can never speak, could never speak. He is incompatible with serenity. And yet, he does not drop your hand.

Then the night stretches on, into forever and the void, both timeless and brief all at once. 

darth maul taglist: (like this post to be added, message me to be removed):

@elledjarin @gggoldfinch @corona-one @kimageddon @seriowan @gran-maul-seizure  @downinthewater @bisexymaul @sp00kworm @hvngmanstrick @aurora1145 @maulslittlemeowmeow @bubblyfishbro @jo-addario @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @x-kiwi-03 @didntseethatcoming04 @mandoleksiak @edlix @wordsfromshona @gods-and-monsterss @ratwebkinz @asheffectx @moonstrider9904 @geminisupremacy @justalittletomato @eyecandyeoz @just-an-anxious-ball-of-flesh @okaycryptid @nightsister-juisid @wingofshadow @netherlady @echuta-mando @lazarithebellydancingmime @hellscapenerd @itsagrimm @mommymao @morganlefaye13 @zakotocinclus @jedimastersovi @cuttlefjsh @ahoeformando @obiwanshusband @cadbanecringecompilation @audacityjuice @remoireobsidian @writercels @stardustbee @daisydayssss

(if you aren’t tagged and have liked my taglist post, it is because i do not know how old you are).

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 4)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: When Pirates attempt to rob the crows, you use your tailor abilities to trick them. You attempt to open up to Kaz.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

4 - Tattoos on Her Chest

Kaz's perspective

As I sorted through paperwork, organizing the Crow Club's bills, I heard the clunking of boots. The soles must be rubber if the sound echoed that such a way through the cabin, I concluded. Inej would have come silently, so it must be Y/n. She wasn't known for her stealth. In fact—everywhere she went, sun beams seemed to radiate off of her, it was the only logical reason for why her skin was always so gleaming... and perfect.

The door of my —Y/n's- office swung open with the gleaming sunbeam herself gripping the knob, her knuckles white from the intense hold she had on it. The color had drained from her face, distress took the place of her normally flirty expression. I rose from my desk quickly, I must have looked a bit frazzled, insomnia was beginning to set in.

"What made you burst in? Did Jesper and Wylan light something on fire-?" I asked with an irritated stare. The Crows were too rambunctious in the morning, I thought.

She seemed to be struggling to speak— she actually looked quite nauseous. Y/n only made a few noises that didn't quite string into proper sentences before she finally blurted out a single squeak of a word;

"Pirates," her voice laced with panic. "Their war flag is up. They're going to attempt to pillage us, kill the men, take the women-," I cut off her spiraling rambles with a gruff demand,

"Stop, that's not helpful right now," her frantic yammering was only going to cloud her judgement. I'd never seen her like this before, though I hadn't known her long. She seemed to unravel by the sight of the pirates, but how did she know about their war flags-? I attempted to create a theory from the evidence present, but

Y/n's heavy breathing warped into a small scream.

"Kaz, get Wylan to have explosives ready, the rest of the crew should be hiding on deck, armed," she commanded to me. There was a glint in her eyes, the spark of a leader who was born to bark out orders and demand respect. "You, and the rest of the Crows, under no circumstances,  interject or fire unless I give the signal to do so." She made a quick hand movement to indicate a 'signal' before leaving the office in a hurry. As she left I saw her hands meeting, beginning to work Grisha magic.

After alerting the Crows of the battle about to commence, we slipped into the blind spots of the boat. An upbringing in Ketterdam didn't teach you how to play sports in or write cursive, but it sure as hell taught you to hide, and hide well at that.

I watched Y/n with a keen gaze as she sauntered up the the edge of the deck, locking eyes with a scruffy man on the approaching ship. He seemed to be Captain, based on his gold-plated teeth and pockets stuffed with coins from various regions. The people accompanying him had torn clothes and were decorated with far less jewelry as well.

The captain let out a bellowing laugh as he unsheathed his curved saber. He pointed it at Y/n with a cocky grin before greeting her with a voice that sounded like what eating sandpaper would do to a person.

"Ay, little lady, where be your captain?" His crew drew their swords, looking hungry for a fight.

"You're staring right at her, darling," Y/n replied with a sweet, voice. Like drizzling hot maple syrup onto fresh, thick pancakes. A delicacy for me, but one worth the buck.

The opposing ship became an uproar of laughter, and the captain fell to his knees from cackling excessively. Y/n flashed an expression of disgust, but her demeanor remained poised. I watched closely as she drew a silver pistol from her pants pocket, and with a loud bang, a bullet pierced through the Captian's tricorne hat. Y/n blew the smoke away from the gun barrel and with a flick of her wrist it was back in her pocket. That was one of Jesper's moves. I eyed the sharpshooter himself as he hid behind a few crates on the far right deck. He smiled with pride as he watched Y/n.

The enemy ship went silent, the soft sloshing of the sea was the only audible noise.

"You should treat me with some saints damn respect," Y/n purred as she walked to the very ledge of the deck, leaning against the railing casually. "Do you know who I am?"

The Captain turned red in the face, making him look like a giant tomato. He clenched his sword-less fist, but I saw wary in his eyes. You could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed for a split second.

"A bitch is what you are!" The gold-toothed man yelled as he pointed his sword at Y/n. She payed his gesture no mind before beginning to unbutton her white, collared shirt. I felt blood rush to my face and heat creeped up on my cheeks.

More of Y/n's  glittering skin was exposed the more buttons she released. I scolded myself for such a foolish observation and gulped. The Captain noticed too, his eyes peering at her chest with a thirst. "You're not a just a bitch, but a whore-... too," his last word seemed to squeak out before his breath hitched. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards.

My curiosity peaked as I saw what he was so distressed about. On the lower skin of Y/n's right collarbone, but high on her chest, was a crest; a tattoo. It depicted a tentacled sea monster consuming a cracked human skull. It had no meaning to me, but it seemed to be significant to the horrified Captain.

"How-? You're- shit... I-," the man sputtered to get words out, but no sentences seemed to form. His tied tongue must have been caught in his throat because he began to have a coughing fit.

"Yes, yes. Daddy is the head of the Kraken Killers," Y/n said with the scoff of a spoiled girl, "I've heard it all before, seen it all before. You reaction bores me." She whined with crossed arms.

"I'm so sorry-"

"You apology is worthless to me, but if you spot me a few dabloons, maybe Daddy doesn't have to know about the rude names you called his only daughter," she winked and turned around to face us, the crew. Her expression was hard; demanding, she wanted us to stay right where we were.

After a few minutes of panicked treasure-nabbing on the opposing boat, the Captain scurried out from the lower deck with a dark, wooden chest.

"Throw it in our boat, ya' big lug," Y/n ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand, not even bothering to turn back around. As the chest hit the deck with a kachunk, the opposing boat's Grisha members drew enough wind into the sails to make it far away from us, and fast.

Y/n smiled once they were long gone, hunching her shoulders and softening her expression. She sighed with relief.

"Well, wasn't that eventful," her nervous chuckle was as sweet as her voice, but it had a slight grit to it, as if it were granulated sugar, rather than syrup. The other Crows stared in shock as Y/n began sifting through the chest of treasures. She seemed to meld into 'characters' so easily when a situation needed resolving, and she was damn good at it. I ignored my growing admiration as we all walked over to Y/n. She buttoned up her shirt, but not before I noticed that the tattoo on her chest had changed, instead of the Kraken Killers', it was a spindly mouse skeleton draped over a dark flower. I said nothing, but my suspicions rose. Her history with the sea was apparent.

"You used the pistol trick I taught you," Jesper said with a grin. Everyone began to congratulate Y/n on such a performance, and laughter became as infectious as an outbreak of Firepox. Even the Fjerdan Bull-sized man seemed happy. As everyone began claiming treasure, Y/n looked back down at her chest, now covered by clothing.

"My tailoring abilities really came in handy for making that Crest tattoo!" She laughed along with everyone else, but it was the only notable thing anyone said that night. I waited until everyone made their way to begin their daily tasks before approaching Y/n.

I attempted to make the sound of my cane quiet as I snaked my way over to her. She was tying the ropes at the mass to adjust the sails properly.

"You don't have to try to sneak up on everyone, Kaz," a soft chuckle escaped her mouth as she says this, spinning around to face me. "Let's leave the spying for Inej," she winked. Her body lay against the mass, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know an awful lot about boats and pirate terminology for a tailor who faked a Crest tattoo of a Pirate gang," my gaze was harsh, pouring into her Siren-like eyes. Just looking at her felt like a trap. Her shoulders stiffened and her lower lip quivered. As she was about to speak when I interrupted her, "you're about to lie, just spit out the truth. I already saw your real crest anyway." She cocked an eyebrow, as if saying, prove it. "It's a mouse skeleton and a flower; a black rose."

Her eyes narrowed, pupils covered by thick eyelashes. She huffed.

"You're not gonna trust me until I tell you, are you?" She grumbled, glaring at me.

"If looks would kill, I'd be as well off as the Captain if he didn't surrender," my backhanded compliment seemed to only frustrate her more. "But I'm alive, so starting talking."

As the sunlight caressed her cheek in dapples, she turned away from me, storming down into the cabin. Her clunky boots were even more audible than they were this morning.

"Are you coming? I thought you wanted to hear my whole life story," her voice echoed from the stairs and the tone felt like a smack in the face as I heard it. Nothing I hadn't dealt with before. I walked down the creaky stairs and slipped into the dimly lit office, where little Mrs. Sunshine was scowling at me from the desk's leather seat. "I ran away for a reason,"

_______________

Word Count: 1761

_______________

Thank you for reading, and enjoy future chapters.

-Valentine

[casp1an-sea]

Jedi Master Jinera “Jin” Vestria

The drawing is old, so it’s kind of bad. Sadly, I don’t remember what her tattoo says, but it seems to start with the letter T.

other characters to know for her story: Gen (best friend), Pical (Best friend), Zac (Padwan), Aaron (Husband), Ven (Daughter)

Birth Year: 50 BBY

Age at beginning: 27 (yes I know she’s young for a master it kinda bothers me but she’s kinda an old OC and now I don’t wanna change it so oh well)

Species: Human, courscantian

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: straight (I forgot I could make cus het OCs lmao)

Height: 5’8”

Occupation : Jedi Master

Force Alignment: Light Neutral

—————————————————————————

Personality: Jin is quiet when you first get to know her but talkative and boisterous once she knows you. She holds her morals close to her and does not cross her own personal boundaries even if it causes her to break the rules. She’s loyal and friendly and sees padawans as a Jedi's friend, as well as a student. She really likes kids. She still holds the council in high regard and will not disrespect direct orders even if she doesn’t agree with them unless they conflict with her core values. Has a similar view of them as Obi-Wan. She promotes emotional stability opposed to emotional suppression and sees love and attachments as a strength when handled in healthy ways. She has a tendency to come across as monotone or blunt when not meaning to, causing others to read her tone incorrectly. She’s also quite sarcastic.

Appearance: Jinera has long light brown hair and green eyes. Her hair is mainly down with a partial braid. It’s tied into a full braid when she fights. She wears a sleeveless black skin tight suit with shorts and a turtle neck. Over that she has a white overcloak fastened around the waist by a belt.

Weapons: Single bladed orange lightsaber with a simple non-decorative silver hilt. But she tends to rely more on the force than her saber, and is very good with meditation and healing abilities.

—————————————————————————

Backstory: She was taken from her family as a baby and has no memory of them. Gen and Pical Were her childhood friends and trained with her as younglings. Pical has become more of a frenemy due to  conflicting views. She was taught mainly by Yoda as a youngling and her master was Plo Koon. She met a mercenary named Aaron on a mission to Corellia and is hiding that they are dating. Only Gen knows. Her Padwan in Zac.

A year before the clone war begin Gen was kicked out of the order after it was discovered that he had a spouse. Jinera was angry with the council and left the order without permission from the them, in solidarity with him, going to Corellia where she married Aaron and changed her name to Julana Drace. She mostly stayed out of the war and had a daughter named Ven. She did not use the force aside from teaching it to her daughter and kept the fact that she was a former Jedi a secret. She gifted her light saber hilt to her daughter, telling her that one day she would find a Kyber crystal of her own to power it.

in the wake of the empire, her and her husband are killed by an inquisitor and her daughter is taken by Darth Vader.

—————————————————————————

@xen-blank, @thehollowwriter, @l7k-a, @ferris-the-wheel, @keii-starz

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@theosb0rnway @fizzydreamz @ravenwing0110

@diabollicallyangelic @xentari94 @tomatette

@dragonflies-draw-flame @sunshinechildskywalker

[ladyzirkonia]

Welcome my dear fellows.

I made another bigger update to my main Masterlist now The Bad Batch season 3 ended. Added some OC stuff (we love OCs in this house!) and a lot of GIFs and Edits. Have fun! 🖤

RP-blogs:

Renegade 99 Squad Crosshair - @toothpick-man

Nite Owl RP-blog - @nite-owl-with-attitude

Knife skill challenge - Hunter and Nite Owl

bg3-blog: @lady-of-waterdeep

Z's suicide squad

Jurij ''just Doc'' Vega - Cybernetic specialist, mad scientist and clone activist - Doc's Masterlist

Ekaterina ''Captain Z'' Zhakov - Ex-Imperial, starfighter pilot and Rampart's chaotic pain in the ass - Introduction

Fanfiction

Collecting some data - Tech x Reader (''Fascinating'')

The perfect drift - Tech x Reader

Eye Rolls & Travel-Biscuits - A little Rampart One-Shot

The Bad Batch Modern Tattoo Shop AU - Tech and Crosshair/OC

Commander Ghoul x Doc - OC x OC (Part 1 - Part 2)

The Clone x Reader Bingo Event

Masterlist here.

My Edits (please credit if you use)

The Bad Batch

Tech in ''The Crossing''

My favorite twins - Tech and Crosshair

The First Battle Memorial of Geonosis - Crosshair

Tech in ''Faster'' - Part 1

Tech in ''Faster'' - Part 2

Neon lights Part 2 - Hunter

Neon lights - Crosshair

Angry boy Crosshair

Looking respectfully - Tech and Hunter

Good morning - Crosshair

Grumpy Crosshair, Wrecker and Lula

The clone/Twi'lek couple

Commander Mayday

Tech in ''The Metamorphosis''

The Bad Batch Season 3

Masterlist - PART 1 - PART 2

The Clone Wars

Juicy Jesse looking at me - with Kix

Look at these crazy boys - Bad Batch (Clone Wars)

Sassy Cody and Baby Rex

Phantom Liberty video edit - Commander Fox

It's hard to be the one who survives - Commander Cody

The faces of Commander Wolffe

Code red - Commander Fox

Masterlist Here.

The Bad Batch and Clone stuff

Incorrect Quotes

Commander Wolffe and Commander Fox

Our favorite twins - Tech and Crosshair

Bad Batch incorrect quote

Memes and rumbles

Mr. tits and Mr. I'm standing there like a model - Jesse and Tech

Every day I wake up meme with Tech

Lost my fucking cat - Crosshair

Shoutout to all my clone- and tech-girlies - Tech x Phee

protective clone (The Last Of Us) submission

The Tech-Turn

I belong with Wrecker but I fear for my spine - Bad Batch quiz

The Kinner Brothers and Cidgor

I have to confess this man does something to me - Dr. Hemlock

Hunter - Joel Miller era

Echo and some grief

The Crossing

Just some random Star Wars stuff

Mandalorian armor culture

Mandalorian tenets or the six actions

Patental divorce - Mando'a

Real talk - about shipping and romances

Space Utah appreciation post

Grief - Tech x Phee and Kanan x Hera

Ahsoka Trailor Star Wars Celebration - Screenshots

I'm so excited for my favorite blueberry! - Ezra Bridger

Were is Captain Rex? Is he safe? Is he alive? - Ahsoka Trailer

Jedi Survivor got me like this

Hottest shit on the Mandalorian throne - Darth Maul

Mandalorian women and light saber - Bo-Katan and Sabine

Cyberpunk 2077 (photomode)

Chippin in - Johnny

Who allowed you smiling like that? - Johnny

Just hanging around - Johnny

Hey choom - Johnny

[425599167]

Some miscellaneous thoughts during watching:

Off to an interestingly horrific start as Barriss is repeatedly forced to obey or die.

"They won't kill us." Why would you think that, they already killed the dumb one.

It's not exactly the reminder I hoped for, but Barriss using Force choke to end the fight was terrifying and awesome.

Oh. So the trailer shot of Barriss bowing down first was in reverse and she's actually standing up last. Here I thought she was doing something clever to keep up the illusion of loyalty, but she's not hiding her feelings at all and the inquisitors are too dumb to notice. It was just deceptive editing. Cool.

Apparently Vader just doesn't care that the girl who's partly responsible for his apprentice leaving is right in front of him. Doesn't even make a remark about how he's going to make her life hell rather than kill her. Doesn't say much at all.

Canon Barriss might not be as intelligent as I believed. My hopes were wrong, she wasn't working on an escape plan from the start, this was spur of the moment.

Looks like some healing abilities are on display. Glad she got those back. Something good.

Woohoo, she escaped, and without any indication she's the one who killed Luminara. That's a win for me.

Crap, I was wrong, they didn't officially make Barriss green, she's still yellow, it was the fucking lighting again. I got bamboozled in the same way I yell at everybody else for.

I'm not sure how I feel about that haircut.

I am sure they should've given her back her damn hood. And a few new tattoos.

How is Barriss the "wise mother"? She's in her mid-thirties, max, possibly still as young as her twenties. Mirialans live at least a couple hundred years, I get the stress took a few off, but how did it take off a century? Barriss looks older than Luminara while Lyn hasn't aged at all, and Lyn spent at least ten years undergoing dark side corruption. How is escaping the inquisitors more stressful than being one?

"To see an old friend. She'll understand what to do." Thanks for the scraps. So she and Ahsoka are friends again. With benefits? Come on, did they make up and make out or what?

She dodged all kinds of sick saber moves like it was nothing, then gets stabbed by random flailing?

Well, I'm glad at least Lyn is getting better. Barriss implicitly motivated Lyn to betray the Jedi, now she helps Lyn to leave the Empire.

Good enough.

[fairyycoffin]

🌻

hiii i’m going to give you a poem i currently adore :)

this is paradise by jay nebel:

Yesterday a woman walked into a Moscow subway with explosives taped to her chest and blew herself and forty others to pieces. There was a spark and then, like someone had folded the station in half, they were gone. Her first name meant paradise though it sounded more like doesn’t it. You can find paradise anywhere. I love names. I whisper them when I want a cigarette: Hemingway, Dostoyevsky and Levis, Bruce and Jane, Paradise. One of my coworkers enjoyed branding my arm with a burning metal spoon. His name was Scott, so plain and American- sounding, so abbreviated, though Scott analyzed Foucault and rolled his own cigarettes and played electric bass. In high school he sold acid to the same football players who'd beat him up outside of McDonald’s. After turning their eyeballs inside out for thirteen hours straight they never touched him again. We will do crazy things. Sometimes I would wait inside my apartment lobby with the lights turned off so I could scare the manager out of his skeleton. He and I were like Clouseau and Kato, attacking each other for months at odd hours of the night. One of my neighbors loved pissing on his wife and another worshipped the smell of manure and licked envelopes until her tongue bled. I discovered paradise while smoking pot in a minivan, until my friend mistook a Buick Skylark for a cop car, shoved my head down into the lighter and burned off my eyebrows. At his last public viewing Abraham Lincoln’s eyebrows had also disintegrated. This is the picture his enemies would have loved to keep in the breast pocket of their tuxedos while floating down the river on a Sternwheeler. My ideas about paradise have changed. I feel better knowing now that my friend who seared my eyebrows weighs over four hundred pounds. Her paradise sizzles at the all-you-can-eat Mongolian grill. You can find yours anywhere. Paradise in the aisle next to the grapefruit and the cough medicine. Paradise sucking another man’s toes over sheets of tattoo flash. In the light saber and the dinosaur, in your three-year-old singing Wayne Newton through the child monitor, Paradise entering the station alone, kneeling down and opening her jacket.

[notapaladin]

first lessons

so i decided for some reason (temporary insanity?) to start posting some of the swtor shit i've done; here's Yaellia, my LS Sith Warrior, bonding with her mentor in her freshman year at Korriban. She's around 16.

&

Years later, Yaellia won’t remember what she said, and even now it’s hazy. She has flashes, impressions, there and gone again.

The lecture hall, all dark stone and glaring red lights. Traditional, they say. She wonders why tradition has to cause eyestrain.

Lord Sevarin at the front of the room, nearly blending in aside from his cold orange eyes. His voice a dry sneer as he asked—what had he asked? She’s not sure. Something about the nature of passion as opposed to peace; it’s barely the start of term, and they’re going over the Sith Code. It had definitely been a question for the class, though. She’s not stupid enough to speak out of turn.

Her fellow first-years, hesitant. Murmuring to each other.

She’d gotten to her feet. She’d answered, calm and confident. It was Sith philosophy, after all. She’d been studying it practically in the cradle. True, her answer was possibly a little unorthodox, but it made perfect sense if--

Pain.

An invisible, intangible fist around her throat, her fingers scrabbling on air as her feet left the floor. Black spots in front of her vision, moons eclipsing the sun until all she knew was darkness. A wet, sticky coldness she knew was her own blood sluicing down her chest.

Fear slicing through her heart like a scalpel, bringing the certain knowledge that this was it, she was going to die, she had shamed her family and she was going to die and she wasn’t even a Sith yet--

In the midst of bruise-spotted agony, a flash of red and a roar of, “Let her go!” from somewhere behind her left shoulder.

Blackness.

And now, she wakes. Improbably, she wakes. She is lying on soft sheets, and all around her is the beeping of medical equipment and the rattling of droids. The infirmary, then. Everything hurts. The skin on her neck has the cold slimy numbness of kolto, which isn’t doing much for the throbbing ache suffusing everything under it. Her mouth and throat is so dry that even swallowing is painful. She tries anyway.

There is someone sitting by her bedside, presence a rippling ice-choked river in the Force. She knows that presence. Slowly, she attempts to wedge open her grit-filled eyes and sit up, her mouth opening to speak.

A hand at her shoulder stops her. “Don’t try to talk,” Lord Venditor murmurs. “You’ve been intubated for a week.”

Ah. That explains why her body is so heavy and her thoughts feel like they’re coming from underwater. Her face burns with shame, and she turns away before he can see. She’s been a fool. Surely, he’ll never take her as an apprentice now.

His mind brushes hers. She’s too tired—and still too drugged—to put her mental walls back up, and the warmth she feels from him confuses her. “The med droids say it might be a while until your throat recovers,” he says. “Until you can talk again. There was...extensive damage. Do you know ISL?”

She tries to shake her head. That turns out to be a bad idea. Eyes watering, she sends a mental negative. Some.

He makes a thoughtful noise. Now she does manage to open her eyes, just to see what kind of expression he’s making.

Lord Venditor is sitting back in one of those hard, uncomfortable duraplast chairs, arms folded. The harsh fluorescent lights make his facial tattoos glitter like fresh blood. His eyes are true Dark Side gold, not like her own pale yellow, and she doesn’t dare meet them for longer than a moment. He doesn’t look angry, at least. Nor disgusted—she thinks. It’s a small mercy. (She’s never seen him angry, but she’s heard tales. She’s heard why they call him the Scourge of Corellia, the carnage left in the wake of his sabers. She has no wish to experience it for herself. She’s good, but she won’t flatter herself.)

(She has too much to do to die yet.)

Finally, he says, “You should learn. It...it’ll help.” He pauses, opens a bottle of water, drops a straw into it, and holds it out for her. Waits, bizarrely, while she pushes herself up to take it. The first sip feels like a benediction. Only then does he continue, “There’s an opening in Lord Emmoridg’s philosophy lectures. I recommend you attend those instead.”

Thank you, she sends, but underneath it is an undercurrent she can’t quite stifle, one that asks, why? She hates it, hates herself for her weakness, but—she has to know. Nothing comes for free. Lord Venditor has always been uncommonly...supportive of her, but it’s one thing to help her find the gate for the Korriban shuttle after an hour of being lost in the Vaiken Spacedock, and another to be here, now, after she’s all but disgraced herself.

(A third thing entirely to...to...)

(That couldn’t have been his voice snarling at Lord Sevarin to drop her.)

But he’s grimacing, one fist clenching and then releasing as her IV pole rocks, and his presence spikes hot with fury. “You nearly died. It would have been a waste. You could be great, Lady Yaellia. You deserve the opportunity to try.”

(Ah. It was.)

Her face burns again, her heart clenching painfully in her chest. She’s never wanted words more in her life, but they won’t come. She’s not sure how she’d even string together that sentence, anyway. So she sends gratitude and determination and hopes it’s enough. I won’t let you down, Lord Venditor. On my honor, I will repay the trust you’ve shown in me.

His face does something odd at that, but then he smiles. “Survive. Become Sith. And we’ll call it even.”

...Survive.

She exhales, grimacing at the raw pulling sensation in her muscles. Her throat still hurts, and she knows she’ll have work to make up now that she’s fallen behind her peers. But she can do it. She has to. She will be Sith.

Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- After an excruciating month, I'm finally updating this fic as I'm finally done with finals😼 lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife @evelyndane

Ch-47 ~The Plan~

 “Strike them down! They’re trying to kill our Saint! They’re trying to kill us all!” the Apparat shouted at his Priestguards. 

“A man so obsessed with holy fire should pay more attention to the smoke.” Alina grinned at the priest

 The light slammed through the girl and burst over the room in a blinding cascade that illuminated the expression of utter shock on the Apparat’s face. 

The Priestguards threw up their hands, eyes squeezed shut against the glare. The Apparat recovered quickly. “Save her! Save her from the traitors!” he bellowed. 

 Some of the guards looked confused, some frightened, but two jumped forward to do his bidding, sabers raised to attack  Anaya and the Squallers. 

A guard slashed his saber towards Anaya, but she hastily formed a blade, crashing her weapon with his as she spun around. She thrashed her blade towards him with much force, sending him backwards as she kicked him in the ribs.

Mal had gotten hold of a sword, and his blade flashed as he cut through one guard, then the other. Two more advanced, but Tolya and Tamar were there to stop them.

 David ran to Genya’s side. Nadia and Zoya flipped another guard in the air. The Priestguards on the periphery raised their rifles to open fire. 

But before they could take further action, Alina’s cut hurled in a fiery arc.

 It crashed through a long table and tore into the earth before the Priestguards, opening a dark, yawning trench in the kitchen floor. 

Terror splayed across the Apparat’s face. The guards fell to their knees, and a moment later, the priest followed. Some wept, chanting prayers. Beyond the kitchen doors, Anaya could hear fists pounding, voices wailing, “Sankta! Sankta!” 

Alina dropped her hands, letting the light recede. She drew a little light and kept it burning in a warm halo around her.

She walked forward and stood before one of the kneeling guards. He was younger than the others, his beard just coming in and his gaze was fastened on the ground as he mumbled prayers.

Alina touched her hand to his shoulder, and his eyes slid shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Forgive me, forgive me.” he spoke

 “Look at me,” she said gently.

 He forced himself to look up. 

Alina cupped his face in her hand

“What’s your name?” she asked

 “Vladim… Vladim Ozwal.” the boy responded, his voice trembling

“It’s good to doubt Saints, Vladim. And men.” 

He gave a shaky nod as another tear spilled over. 

“My soldiers bear my mark,” Alina spoke, referring to the tattoos borne by the Soldat Sol. “Until this day you have put yourself apart from them, buried yourself in books and prayer instead of hearing the people. Will you wear my mark now?”

“Yes,” he said, fervently. 

“Will you swear loyalty to me and only me?” 

“Gladly! Sol Koroleva!” he cried. Sun Queen.

“Open your shirt,” she commanded. 

Anaya was utterly confused as to what the girl was about to do. But the boy didn’t hesitate. 

His fingers fumbled with his buttons and he pulled the fabric apart, baring the skin of his chest.

Alina pressed her palm to the smooth skin over his heart and let the power pulse. Vladim flinched when it connected, scorching his flesh, but did not show any signs of paint. When she pulled her hand back, her palm print remained, the brand throbbed red on his chest. 

“It is done.” she spoke

 Vladim looked down at his chest, and his face broke into a beatific grin. 

“Thank you, Sol Koroleva.” 

“Rise” she commanded. 

He stood, beaming down at her, tears still running from his eyes. 

The Apparat moved as if to stand. 

“Stay where you are,” Alina snapped

 “Sankta Alina, I only wanted for you to be safe, for you to be whole and well again,” he spoke shakily. 

“Then consider your prayers answered. Priest, you will offer sanctuary to all those who seek it, not just those who worship the Sun Saint.” 

He shook his head. “The security of the White Cathedral-” 

“If not here, then elsewhere. Figure it out.” she cut him off

 He took a breath. “Of course.”

 “And there will be no more child soldiers.”

 “If the faithful wish to fight-”

 “You are on your knees, we are not negotiating.”

His lips thinned, but after a moment, he dipped his chin in assent. 

“You are all witness to these decrees.” Alina spoke, looking around. She then turned to one of the guards. “Give me your gun.” 

He handed it over without a second’s pause. She passed the weapon to Genya, then demanded a saber for David, though he wouldn’t be much good with it. Zoya, Nadia and Anaya stood ready to summon, and Mal and the twins were already well armed.

 “Up,” Alina said to the Apparat. “Let us have peace. We have seen miracles this day.” 

He rose, and as she embraced him. She then whispered something in his ear that made him shudder and nod begrudgingly.

 “See to your dead,” Alina said to one of the Priestguards. “We’ll bear them with us. Do they, do they have family?”

 “We are their family,” Vladim spoke.

 She addressed the others. “Gather the faithful from all over the White Cathedral and bring them to the main cavern. I will speak to them in one hour’s time. Vladim, once we’re out of the Kettle, free the other Grisha and get them to my quarters.” 

He touched the brand at his chest in a kind of salute. “Sankta Alina.”

 Alina glanced at Mal’s bruised face. “Genya, clean him up. Nadia-”

 “I’ve got it,” Tamar said, already dabbing the blood on Nadia’s lip with a towel she’d dunked into a cookpot full of hot water. 

“Sorry about that,” she said to her. 

Nadia smiled. “Had to make it look good. Besides, I’ll get you back.” 

“We’ll see,” Tamar replied with an amused grin.

Alina then looked over the other Grisha in their bedraggled kefta. 

“Tolya, Tamar, Mal, you’ll walk beside me with the Apparat.” She lowered her voice. “Try to look confident and, regal.” 

“I have a question-” Zoya began.

 “I have about a hundred, but they’ll have to wait. I don’t want the crowd out there turning into a mob.” She responded.

Zoya glanced at Anaya before deciding to follow her

“I want everyone else interspersed with the Priestguards. This is a show of alliance.” Alina spoke

They arranged themselves in front of the doors. 

The Apparat and Alina took the lead, the Priestguards and Grisha arrayed behind them, the corpses of the fallen borne aloft by their brothers.

 “Vladim, open the doors.” she commanded

The doors flew upon. Alina threw out her hands and let light blast into the passageway. A cry went up from the people lining the tunnel. Those who weren’t already kneeling fell to their knees, and a chorus of prayer washed over them. “Speak,” Alina muttered to the Apparat. “And make it good.” 

“We have faced a great trial this day,” he declared hurriedly. “Our Saint has emerged from it stronger than before. Darkness came to this hallowed place-”

 “I saw it! Shadows climbed the walls-”cried one of the Priestguards. 

Even though they’d seen quite a lot of seemingly improbable things, Anaya too, had been quite curious as to where they’d come from.

 “But they were vanquished, as they will always be vanquished. By faith!”  continued the Apparat, 

“And by power.” Alina said, stepping forward. 

She let light sweep through the passage in a blinding cascade. 

The cries of “Sankta! Sankta!” continued as she led the Apparat and the Priestguards through the White Cathedral. 

She escorted the Apparat to his quarters herself with Mal and Tolya trailing them.

                     ......………………………………………...... 

None of them looked too badly off. Nadia’s lip was swollen, and Maxim, a healer back from the Little Palace was tending to a cut over Stigg’s eye.

 It was the first time they'd been allowed to gather underground. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sergei asked as soon as Alina had dismissed Vladim. “One minute I’m in the infirmary with Maxim, the next I’m in a cell.” He paced back and forth. 

“Calm down, you’re not behind bars now.” Tamar spoke

 “I might as well be. We’re all trapped down here. And that bastard is just looking for a chance to get rid of us.”

 “If you want out of the caves, then this is your opportunity,” Alina said. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”

 “How?” Stigg asked

 As an answer, she let sunlight flare for a brief moment in her palm, as proof that her power had come back to her. 

The room erupted into whistles and cheers. 

“Yes, yes, the Sun Summoner can summon. And all it took was a few deaths and a minor explosion.” Zoya spoke in a disinterested tone

 “You blew something up?” said Harshaw plaintively. “Without me?”

 He was wedged up against the wall next to Stigg. 

Both inferni were utterly opposite in appearance. Stigg was short and stocky with nearly white blond hair. He had the solid, stubby appearance of a prayer candle. Harshaw was tall and rangy, his hair redder than Genya’s, nearly the color of blood.

 A scrawny orange tabby had somehow made her way down to the bowels of the White Cathedral and taken a liking to him. She followed him everywhere, slinking between his legs or clinging to his shoulder. 

“Where did those blasting powders come from?” Alina asked as she sat next to Nadia and Adrik on the edge of her bed.

 “I made them when I was supposed to be making salve,” David spoke. “Just like the Apparat said.” 

“Right under the noses of the Priestguards?” she asked

 “It’s not as if they know anything about the Small Science.” 

“Well, somebody must. You got caught.”

 “Not exactly,” said Mal. He’d stationed himself by the doorway with Tamar, each of them keeping an eye on the passage beyond.

 “David knew we were meeting in the Kettle, and he guessed about the master flue.” Genya said

 David frowned. “I don’t guess.” 

“But there was no way to get the powders out of the archives, not with the guards searching everything. So we had the Apparat deliver it.” Tamar grinned. 

“You meant to get caught?”  Alina stared at them in disbelief. 

 “Turns out the easiest way to schedule a meeting is to get arrested,” Zoya said

“Do you know how risky that was?” she said in exasperation

“Blame Oretsev,” Zoya replied with a sniff. “It was his idea of a brilliant plan.”

 “It did work,” Genya said.

 Mal lifted a shoulder. “Like Sergei said, the Apparat was waiting for an opportunity to take us out of action. I figured we’d give him one.” 

“We were just never sure when you’d be in the Kettle,” Anaya spoke. “When you left the archives today, David claimed he’d forgotten something in his quarters and came by the training rooms to give us the signal”

“We knew the Apparat would be more likely to trust Tolya and Tamar, so they roughed us up a little-” Nadia added

“A lot,” put in Mal. “Then they claimed to have discovered a devious plot involving a few wicked Grisha and one very gullible tracker.” he gave a mock salute. 

“I was afraid he’d insist on putting everyone in the cells, so we claimed you were in immediate danger and that we had to get to the Kettle right away.” Tamar said

“And then we just hoped the whole kitchen wouldn’t fall in on us.” Nadia spoke with a smile

 David’s frown deepened. “It was a controlled blast. The odds that the cave’s structure would hold were well above average.”

 “Ah. Above average,” said Genya. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“I just did.”

 “What about those shadows on the wall? Who pulled that off?” Zoya asked

 “I did it, we rigged it as a distraction.” Mal responded

Anaya noticed how tense Alina had suddenly gotten, but chose not to point it out. Sergei paced back and forth, cracking his knuckles. “You should have told us about the plan. We deserved a warning.”

 “You could have at least let me blow something up,” added Harshaw. 

Zoya gave an elaborate shrug. “I’m so sorry you felt excluded. Never mind how closely we’ve been watched and that it was a miracle we weren’t found out. We definitely should have jeopardized the whole operation to spare your feelings.”

Alina cleared her throat. “In less than an hour, I’ll be leading services with the Apparat. We’ll leave directly after that, and I need to know who’s going with me.”

“Any chance you’re going to tell us where the third amplifier is?” Zoya asked. 

Anaya had known about the firebird, but not exactly where Alina had hoped to find it. 

“The less you know, the safer we’ll be.” Mal shook his head.

 “So you’re not even telling us where we’re going?” Sergei spoke sulkily. 

“Not quite. We’re going to attempt to make contact with Nikolai Lantsov.” Alina responded

Nikolai

Anaya wondered if he'd survived. Though she did believe that given the boy's enthusiasm, he'd even have managed to carve a ship out of a rock. 

 “I think we should try Ryevost,” Tamar said. 

“Go to the river cities? Why?” Alina asked 

“Sturmhond had smuggling lines throughout Ravka. It’s possible Nikolai is using them to get arms into the country. If the rumors are true and he’s based somewhere in the north, then there’s a good chance the drop point near Ryevost is active.” she responded

 “That’s a lot of maybe and not much more,” Harshaw spoke

 Mal nodded. “True. But it’s our best lead.” 

“And if it’s a dead end?” Sergei asked.

 “We split up, we find a safe house where you can lie low, and I take a team to find the firebird.” Mal said

 “You’re welcome to remain here,” Alina said to the rest of them. “I know the pilgrims aren’t friendly to Grisha, and after tonight, I’m not sure how sentiment will change. But if we’re captured aboveground-”

 “The Darkling doesn’t deal kindly with traitors,” finished Genya quietly. 

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Anaya glanced at Genya’s somber expression.

“No. He doesn’t.” Alina responded

 “He’s had his shot at me, I’m going.” A bold look washed over Genya

Zoya smoothed the cuff of her coat. “We’d move faster without you.” 

“I’ll keep up,” she countered. 

“See that you do, we’ll be entering an area crawling with militias, not to mention the Darkling’s oprichniki. You’re recognizable,” Mal said to Genya. 

“So is Tolya, for that matter.” Tamar’s lips twitched.

 “Would you like to be the one to tell him he can’t come?” Mal asked. “Maybe we can disguise him as a really big tree.”

“I’m coming along". Anaya’s words made everyone’s attention turn to her.

“I’ve had quite some experience with keeping a low profile. Besides, I would go berserk if I remain here any longer” she shrugged

 “See you in an hour,” Adrik shot to his feet as he declared. 

“Well, I’m going then. Someone has to make sure that Nasrazeen doesn’t get lost somewhere in these dank caves” Zoya said with a rather smug expression.

“Oh really Nazyalensky? Just accept that the humidity here is murdering all that hair of yours” Anaya rolled her eyes

“You're not wrong” Zoya shrugged

 Harshaw rose and pushed off from the wall. “I’d prefer to stay, but Oncat says we go.” He hefted the tabby onto his shoulder with one hand.

 “Are you ever going to name that thing?” Zoya asked.

 “She has a name.”

 “Oncat is not a name. It’s just Kaelish for cat.” 

“Suits her, doesn’t it?”

Zoya rolled her eyes and flounced out the door, followed by Anaya, Harshaw and then Stigg, who gave a polite bow and said, “I’ll be ready.”

[silverwings22]

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 66: Safe and Sound- Taylor Swift

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness Chapter warning: canon typical violence

Previous chapter:

Next Chapter:

“Bye bye, sweetheart.” Miria waved to a little boy of about four as his mother picked him up. He was the last of her students, a pre-school class she'd volunteered to teach three afternoons a week in front of the Archium so their parents could get more work accomplished. She loved it, and had about ten happy little ones learning their letters and shapes. She even got to bring Mayrin, and the days she didn't teach were the days Crosshair didn't pick up work around the dock. They both had time with their daughter, and each other. Speaking of which… “I think it's about time to start walking down to find your father, don't you?” She looked down at the infant in her carrier on her chest. 

Mayrin cooed, both legs kicking eagerly. Sunset meant her daddy would be coming in to scoop her up and spoil her, and she knew it. Then something new caught her eye and she set up a determined little babble. Omega skidded into view on Batcher’s back. “Hi Miri!” She squeaked, clambering up the big flowering tree. 

“Hello, padawan mine. What are you doing?” Miria frowned. 

“I have to get this white flower back down to the cavern before the sun sets. Fennec's contact arrived and she's testing my M-count.” The girl explained hurriedly. “I'm running out of time.”

Miria raised an eyebrow. “Come with me.” She took Omega by the hand. “Batcher, meet us at the cavern.”

The hound barked and took off, Miria walking Omega to the edge of the wall and climbing on. “What are we doing?”

“Hold onto me, please.” Miria chuckled, then hugged Omega close and stepped over, running down the sheer wall like a moon-yo.  Omega squealed and Mayrin giggled. “Are your brothers all down there? No one called me about the contact.” Miria grumbled as they hit the sand. 

“There was a lot happening at once.” Omega said sheepishly. 

Miria shook her head and stepped into the cave, spotting immediately both the unmarked gunship and a yellow lightsaber pointed at Hunter’s throat. Wrecker was lifted off the ground, choking, and Crosshair was on his knees. 

Before Omega could say a word more than a horrified gasp, Miria's saber was ignited and she was moving, one arm around her daughter and the other pushing the yellow blade away from her sergeant. 

“Get away from them!” She snapped, twisting when the opponent took an offensive stance and they started exchanging blows at terrifying speeds. Miria moved like a dancer; up the rocks and twirling down again, securing her footing with the Force when they were slick, ducking and going low. She knew this style of fight. She'd fought this duelist before, though with a greater shake in her arms then. 

Quickly, she shoved the other women back into a ray of light and froze at the tattooed face and white hair of a female Dathomerian zebrak. “.... Ventress?”

“Halcyon?” The former Sith froze, staring at her. “You survived the Purge?”

Miria put her saber back on her belt. “I did. What are you doing on Pabu?”

“I thought these were the clones I remembered you with on Felucia.” Ventress put her own saber on her hip and walked over. “You look better than I remember.”

“As do you. Your hair looks lovely.” Miria chuckled. “Now why were you trying to kill my husband and brothers-in-law?”

“They started it.” Ventress huffed. “I'm not the enemy here. We all were pawns in this war, and we all lost.”

Miria nodded, looking over at the three brothers with a sigh. “No one thought to call me before getting into a fight?”

“You had the baby.” Wrecker called back sheepishly. 

“Baby?” Ventress eyed her. “... Halcyon, did you just jump into a duel with an infant strapped to you? Are you insane?”

“Probably. What are you doing here?” Miria frowned. “Not that I'm unhappy to see you, of course.”

“Fennec sent me. Said a couple clones were inquiring about high M-count targets. That's dangerous, Halcyon. Particularly for you.”

“So that's confirmation? The Empire is testing midichlorians?” Miria’s frown only deepened. “That doesn't explain why they're after Omega. She's a clone. They can't be Force-sensitive… can they?”

“You really never tried testing the kid? Some Jedi.” Ventress hip-checked Miria and nearly knocked the smaller woman over.

“Less than a year ago I was dying, Asajj.” Miria grumbled, catching herself as they started back up the rocks to the clones. “I wasn't looking for traits if Force sensitivity.”

“Does she have any?” Ventress gave her a curious look.

Miria frowned. Omega had incredible compassion and empathy, but that could have been chalked up to her innocence as a child. She befriended animals easily, but that wasn't exactly a sure tell… there were a few suspiciously lucky blaster shots, too. Nothing concrete. “... I don't know.”

“Then I'm going to test her.” Ventress huffed. 

Miria sighed as they got up to where the clones and ship were. “Are you all alright?”

“Yeah.” Hunter sighed, glancing over at Crosshair. He looked like a tooka with its tail in a light socket, stiff limbed as his wife made his way back to them. 

“We need to talk this over.” He muttered when she got to them, putting a hand on Mayrin. “Back at home.”

Ventress eyed them. “You're not as safe here as you think you are, Halcyon. And neither are those kids.”

Miria sighed, slipping an arm around Crosshair. “Let's go back to the ship to talk this over. Ventress, I'll come see you in the morning. I don't have classes tomorrow.”

“Fine by me.”

Miria led her clan back up the mountainside, expression thoughtful. It was fully dark by the time they'd gotten to the Marauder to talk, and she sent her parents a message they'd be home late. This needed to be a Bad Batch decision, and as much as she loved Jet and Annalise, they hadn't seen what this group had. Not of the war or the Empire, collectively. 

“I can't believe you got into a light saber fight with Mayrin.” Crosshair huffed first. 

“I saw a weapon at Hunter's throat. I didn't have time to hand her to Omega.” Miria shook her head, curling in a deck chair with the baby. “And I had Asajj going pretty well with one hand. I'm stronger than I used to be.”

“I don't trust her. Not with Omega.” Hunter said firmly. “Not after the kind of war criminal she used to be.”

“She turned around on Felucia. You all were there.” Miria pointed out. 

“I still remember her stabbing you in the back.” Crosshair hissed. “I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.”

Omega shook her head, and Miria was struck by how grown up and level headed she sounded. “I don't know much about the war, but if she was trying to hurt us why didn't she kill you three when she had the chance?”

“We were just getting warmed up.” Wrecker grumbled, arms crossed. 

“Right. Still, I think she's trying to help us. And Miri trusts her.” Omega looked at the woman. “People can change.”

“You're being naive.” Crosshair fiddled with his toothpick. “Both of you.”

“We never gave up on you, did we?” Omega put her hands on her hips. 

Crosshair froze, eyes darting from Miria to Omega and back. His sister looked serious, the single ship light they'd turned on casting half her face in shadow. It reminded him of Hunter's tattoo, a mark he'd subconsciously always thought of a sign of leadership even when he wanted to put his fist in the middle of that inked skull. Miria’s eyes caught the light as she looked back at him, shining like amethyst lanterns. 

Wrecker cut the silence with his unique insight, which Miria appreciated always got to the heart of the problem. “I don't see why we need her to test Omega. If this M-count thing really is about the Force, Miri would have known about it. Right?”

Every eye turned to Miria, who just shook her head. “Perhaps I should have. But I didn't. There are things that, on reflection, could indicate a Force connection… or just good luck and a kind heart. I've never looked for it, and I'm so used to her energy now I'm not sure if I'd notice unless she did something overt.” She looked at Omega. “I sometimes brought young ones to the temple. But I never was the one who determined which child came or didn't. Ventress is a former Sith, but was trained by a man who was a wise Jedi before he turned to the Dark Side. If there's a secret I don't know, she's likely to have learned it.”

Hunter deflated some. “You think we should let Omega go test with her. All by herself.”

“Oh, absolutely not. I'll be going with her.” Miria said with a quiet smile. “I'll be going for my own reasons, but I won't interfere with the testing. And neither will you three.”

Wrecker and Hunter nodded. Crosshair just grumbled quietly. “Then it's settled.” Omega smiled. “Let's go back home and get some sleep. Tomorrow sounds exciting.”

“Be ready at first light.” Miria told her, and the girl nodded and ran out of the ship. Hunter and Wrecker followed, so Miria and Crosshair closed up the ship and walked together. “Are you upset with me, darling?”

“No… I just didn't like seeing you dueling again.” He admitted. “I don't like you fighting anymore. I know there's not a choice, but… it took me too long to get back to you. I'm not losing you again.”

Miria slipped her hand into his. “That's pretty much how I felt when I saw you on the ground.”

“Sorry… we may have jumped the gun. But we all care about Omega.” He murmured. 

“I know. It's one of the many things I love about you. How good you are to your sister. And Mayrin.” She chuckled, bringing his knuckles to her lips as they reached the house. 

They walked inside and Miria waved to her parents cuddled on the couch before they headed to the nursery. “Speaking of Mayrin. Don't take her with you tomorrow. It's hard enough knowing you and Omega are going with Ventress.” He grumbled as he changed the baby into a clean diaper and her pajamas, while Miria mixed a bottle. 

“That's fair enough. Why don't you keep her for the day instead of my parents? She's really not to fussy in the carrier, and you can let her lay on a blanket on her tummy for a few minutes every couple hours when you feed and change her.” Miria chuckled, handing him the bottle casually. 

The grumpy black-ops sniper sat down in the rocking chair and held the bottle for his daughter, giving Miria an incredulous look. “You really trust me to babysit her all day?”

“It's not babysitting, Cross. It's parenting. Which, I might add, you're very good at. Look at her.” Miria tried not to snicker when he looked down at Mayrin and blinked. 

“... I've literally never had her by myself. You or one of your parents has always been there.” He finally said softly, watching Mayrin fall asleep nursing.

“Your brothers will be there.” Miria gently took the baby and tucked her into the crib. “You said you wanted their trust back. Now you need to give them yours.”

He nodded quietly, following her to their room once Mayrin was tucked in. Miria set herself an alarm and changed into her nightgown, climbing into bed and opening her arms. Crosshair stripped sky climbed in with her, putting his head on her chest above her tattoo. Since he'd come back, it was the only way he'd found he could sleep without nightmares. Miria's arms stayed folded around his shoulders the whole night, and if he started to stir her gentle caressing over his skin settled him again. 

She couldn't fix him, but she could help give him a fighting chance to fix himself. 

“I love you, my darling.” She murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.” He mumbled back. 

Bright and early, as promised, Miria walked down to the cavern and found Ventress sitting in the morning sun at the mouth of it. “Morning. I brought you some caf.” Miria said softly. 

Ventress got to her feet. “Thanks. Your clones not with you?”

“Omega is getting ready. The guys agreed not to interfere… well, except my husband, but he's got our daughter so he'll stay out of it.” She chuckled, taking a sip from her own thermos of tea and handing Ventress the caf. “How will you be testing her?”

“I rented a boat for the day.” Ventress shrugged. “We'll see if she can connect to the wildlife out in the water.”

“This will be interesting.” Miria chuckled. “I'll be riding along.”

“I'm surprised you haven't started training her.” Ventress pointed out as they walked up to the docks. 

“I have. Just… different training. More than a soldier, but not how we were trained.” She looked at the zebrak quietly. “Asajj, did Quinlan-”

“Don't.” There wasn't venom in Ventress's tone, so she couldn't tell if that meant the other Jedi had been killed, broken up with her, or simply was waiting at home somewhere. 

“Alright.” Miria sighed. 

They stepped up to find Omega eagerly waiting for them. “No chaperones?” Ventress raised an eyebrow. “I'm sure they told you about what I did during the war.”

“They did.” Omega smiled brightly. 

“You're an odd little clone.”

Miria looked up and spotted two sets of binocs and a scope pointed at them from the mid levels. She tried not to laugh, following Asajj and Omega into the boat and sitting down as the former Sith took them out deep. 

“Crosshair have the baby?” Miria asked Omega. 

“Yeah. She looked so confused that he’s there during the daytime.” Omega laughed. 

Ventress eyed Miria. “I remember you telling me you were engaged… but I still never expected the Order's poster child to be a mother.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways. You know that.” Miria said mildly. “The Empire is after my daughter, as much as they're after Omega. That's why we need answers.” 

Her mind kept turning back to Crosshair’s fear on Teth. He still can't talk about the clone assassins…

Ventress stopped the boat a good distance from shore, turning off the engine. Omega looked at her. “We're out pretty far.”

“It'll be easier to tune out distraction.” Ventress was blunt and hard, so unlike Miria's soft edges Omega knew better. She glanced at the Jedi, who just nodded for her to listen. Ventress opened an outboard platform. “Many Force-sensitives have an affinity for nature. Give it a try.”

Omega frowned, but stepped out. “What am I trying?”

Ventress didn't give her a straight answer, just watched her expectantly. Omega sighed and closed her eyes with her hand extended, trying to feel… something. Anything. Miria said the Force was the energy of the galaxy. She just needed to feel it, and something would happen…

Ventress looked at Miria, who was watching the young clone seriously. She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the Jedi, with so many people she'd loved dead behind her. Ventress had lost people too, and she knew the agony. But an entire Order, including the creche, and all the clones she'd cared about… 

How was the little Master still standing? 

Omega turned around and looked at them, frustrated. “Nothing is happening!”

“Because you're not letting go of your conscious mind.” Ventress huffed. 

“What does that even mean?” Omega grumbled, stepping back into the boat. “I bet you don't even understand it. Miri, can you explain any of this?”

Miria chuckled, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on them. “I promised I wouldn't interfere… but Ventress might be able to show you.” She suggested casually, giving Ventress a smile. Ventress might have been more in practice with the Force nowaday, but Miria did know children best.  

Ventress nodded, getting up and stepping over to the platform while Omega sat down beside Miria. The young clone watched both women shut their eyes, Ventress reaching out a hand and flexing her fingers while Miria relaxed and tilted her head back. Miria opened her eyes first and smiled. 

“Nothing’s happening.” Omega frowned.

“Are you sure?” Miria pointed, and Omega looked out into the water. Beneath them, a large school of glowing green mantas were swimming in a circle under the boat. “Aren’t they beautiful?” 

Omega leaned out, hand coming to the surface as the rays skimmed just below her palm. “How’s she doing this?” She whispered. 

“When you learn how to connect with the Force, you can feel their spirits. And when you interact with it, they can feel yours and come to see.” Miria smiled, looking up as Ventress turned around. “It wasn’t so long ago that small things ran away from you. Now look.” She looked proud of the former Sith, her former enemy who she’d last embraced as a friend. No matter how the Empire’s rise had hardened them both, she was still delighted to see Asajj Ventress stepping further from the darkness. 

Ventress bit back a slight chuckle and gestured. “Do I still not know what I’m talking about?”

Omega scrunched her nose, getting back up to try again, when Miria suddenly stiffened. “Asajj…” She looked over the edge of the boat. “... we may have a problem.” 

Ventress paused and looked at her, eyes widening for a moment, before a large purple tentacle wrapped around Miria’s waist and snatched her from the boat. Before Omega or Ventress could react, the rest of a massive vrathean surfaced and flipped the boat over. 

Up on the island, all three brothers watched their little sister go flying and their general in the air. Crosshair, who’d been pacing between looking through his scope, grabbed Hunter by the shoulder. “Can we interfere now?” He’d been less than thrilled about being sidelined to send his wife and sister to hang out with any war criminal besides himself. Especially after he figured out Miria had probably tasked him with keeping Mayrin in order to distract him, when Hunter had made the suggestion of renting their own boat to follow and he’d realized there was no way he was taking Mayrin on the water without sixteen forms of floatation device. 

“Yeah. Get to the Marauder.” Hunter ordered, and they all took off as fast as they could to the ship. 

Back in the water, Omega and Ventress were clinging to the upside down boat as Miria was slung around. “Did you call that too?” The girl squeaked. 

“Not intentionally.” Ventress groaned. 

Another tentacle wrapped around Omega, and both she and Miria were dragged underwater. Ventress swore softly and went dove under, pulling her lightsaber and cutting the end off a tentacle to drag Omega back to the surface in a smudgy haze of bluish blood. When she dove back for Miria, the smaller woman had gone completely still and was staring into the giant creatures eye when it brought her close. 

It looked like there might be a peaceful resolution, until the Havoc Marauder flew by and started shooting. Ventress dragged herself to the surface. “Tell them they’re making it worse!” She snapped. “Call them off.” 

Omega nodded, clinging to the boat, and lifted her comm to her mouth. “Stop shooting!” 

Hunter and Crosshair exchanged anxious looks in the cockpit, but circled back. The sniper's leg was bouncing, his daughter making unhappy sounds in the carrier on his chest. 

Ventress let the vrathean pick her up around the waist and bring her to its face above the water, also bringing a coughing Miria next to her. Both women exchanged their own understanding looks, and two hands outstretched towards the leviathan. Slowly, it brought them both closer and closer to each eye, and Ventress opened hers to look at it. Miria on the other side stretched, and her hand touched its open beak at the same time as Ventress. Miria smiled at it, voice soft as she spoke first. “There now. That’s better.” She said gently. 

Omega watched in amazement as the sea creature set both women down on either side of her atop the upside-down boat and disappeared into the depths it had come from. Miria looked at Ventress. “There was no way I could have managed that on my own.”

“You saved our lives.” Omega grinned. 

“Stop smiling, both of you. It’s unsettling.” Ventress huffed, looking up as the Marauder came around to pick them up. 

Crosshair double timed it down the stairs with Mayrin still on his chest and reached for Omega, who was closest. “You okay?”

She nodded and let him help her up the stairs before turning around and looking at Ventress, who didn’t need the help. Still, Omega’s words from the night before sat heavily on his shoulders. We never gave up on you, did we? 

Ventress was surprised when he held out a hand and politely helped her onto the ramp. “Thanks.” 

He just nodded and turned back to get Miria, who was giving him a smile he hadn’t seen in a long time. The kind of proud one he’d gotten when he first started getting along with Echo, or said something sweet after a long moment of reflection. She took his outstretched hand and was promptly lifted off her feet and to his side. “What are you looking at me like that for?” He mumbled, pressing his face into her wet hair. It wasn’t the first time she’d almost drowned on him, but he could offer a much better reunion than he had last time. 

“Before the war, you wouldn’t have offered her a hand.” She said softly. He’d have stubbornly held his convictions she was dangerous, like he had yesterday when she’d turned up. He’d have offered no quarter or change… “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled weakly. “Well, come do it inside. You’re soaked.” 

Miria nodded and he pulled her in, sitting them both down. She smiled at Mayrin, catching the chubby baby hand between her thumb and forefinger. “Hello there, starshine.” 

The baby set up a squeal that sounded more like a wordless lecture, and Ventress raised an eyebrow. Miria’s expression dipped for a moment, understanding in her eyes, before she turned and looked at Ventress. 

The former Sith gave her a tiny, wordless nod, and turned back to observe Omega as she tried to describe what she’d experienced. 

The next morning, Ventress said goodbye to the collection of cloned and lavender-eyed family. Omega was bouncing on her heels eagerly. “So what’s the verdict? Do I have a high M-count?” She asked curiously. 

“From what I’ve seen… no.” Ventress shook her head. 

“Then we still don’t know why the Empire is after me.” Omega deflated, and Wrecker immediately put two huge hands on her shoulders to comfort her.

“The truth is rarely comforting.” Ventress muttered. “But you’re better off if you’re not.” 

Omega sighed and shook her head. “We’ll figure it out, I guess.”

Miria patted her shoulder with one hand. “We will.” 

Omega waved goodbye and backed up, heading down the beach with Wrecker and Batcher. Crosshair waited until they were out of earshot to cross his arms and stare Ventress down. “You’re lying.” 

“About which part?” Ventress almost sounded coy, an echo of the way she’d taunted Miria years ago when they were enemies.

“You tell us.” Hunter demanded. 

Ventress looked dead at Miria. “If she was Force-sensitive, she would need to be trained. And two of them may be more than you can handle on your own, Halcyon. You couldn’t fully reach the vrathean through the Force, only feel it.” 

“What will you do now?” Miria met her eyes, shoulders straight despite the criticism. Ventress wasn’t wrong, despite how blunt she was. 

“I still have a few lives left.” Ventress smirked slowly, turning to walk back towards her ship. 

Crosshair snorted, eyes fixed on her back. “I still can’t decide whose side you’re on.” He said quietly. It wasn’t a lie. Omega had all the hope in the world, and Miria was far more forgiving than was good for her even if she still harbored a grudge on Cid and Palpatine. He might have extended a hand to Ventress, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to pull it back if he had cause. He would wait for cause, at least. 

“My own.” Ventress said coolly, looking back over her shoulder. “Things are worse out there than you know, Halcyon. And you’re not as safe here as you think.” 

Miria stiffened, watching the zebrak get into her ship and pull out of the cavern. She stared after it long after it disappeared beyond the atmosphere, until Crosshair gently tugged her arm. “What was she talking about, cyare?” 

“Hunter, you didn’t tell Fennec our coordinates, did you?” She murmured. 

“No. I didn’t tell her anything.” Hunter shook his head. “Why?”

“Then Fennec couldn’t have given them to Asajj.” Miria murmured, looking at Crosshair. “There are Force-sensitives in the Empire. If Ventress can find us without coordinates, so can they.”