#the only time the other younglings ever hear her is when she wakes up screaming bc of the nightmares

[wild-karrde]

One Step at a Time - Part 10

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: Another chapter??? YES. YES INDEED. There's a reason I'm focusing on this fic right now, and I think it will all come together swimmingly (I apologize for being vague, but I PROMISE THERE'S A REASON). As always, thank you to the stupendous @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this chapter for me and screaming with me about this story!!!

Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: language, implied sexual content

Word Count: 6.5k words

“Pssssssst.” 

Chuckles was jolted awake by a persistent tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. Sitting bolt upright on his bunk, he whipped his head around to find Nita staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Nita, honey wh-” A pudgy hand slapped over his mouth, and the tiny Pantoran held a finger to her lips, glaring at him as though he’d walked into some holy place and started obnoxiously shouting. 

“Shhhh!” she warned. “You’ll wake Arni!”

Chuck’s eyes flicked to the bunk, where he could still hear Arni snoring uninterrupted. 

A thermal detonator wouldn’t wake that kid.

“And why don’t we want to do that?” he mumbled around Nita’s fingers. 

“It’s a secret, so you gotta stay quiet.” 

“Ok,” he whispered. “What’s the secret?” 

Nita stood on her tiptoes, and Chuckles leant down, propping himself up on one elbow so she could cup her hand to his ear, whispering loudly. “Tomorrow is Arni’s birthday.” 

Chuckles’s heart fell and then began to race. 

You don’t even know when their birthdays are. What a kriffing idiot you are. You never even asked. 

“How do you know that?” he asked cautiously, trying not to allow the guilt seeping through him to show. 

Nita rocked back on her heels nervously. “We… we were kind of arguing last night. They told me I was only five and didn’t know everything, and I told them they were only ten and couldn’t know that much more than me. And they told me they wouldn’t be ten for much longer. Then they told me it’s tomorrow.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, some of her apprehension seeming to fade at the prospect of planning a surprise. “Do you think we should do something for them?” 

Chuckles rolled onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face as his mind fumbled with all of the information that had been dumped on him while he was still only fractionally conscious. 

Arni’s birthday is tomorrow. They’re turning eleven. Maker. At least Nita’s not holding a grudge about whatever they were bickering about. They seem to be doing that a bit more often lately. 

He turned to look at Nita. “Why didn’t they say something sooner?”

She shrugged. “They didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it since you’ve been so tired from your job.” 

Chuckles couldn’t deny that was true. He’d survived his first week in the mine, but he hadn’t experienced this much muscle soreness since his days as a cadet. He’d admittedly worked extra hard this week to impress Anj and the crew, always taking on any additional work and lending a hand where he could. He felt he’d impressed her, but most nights, he’d barely managed to limp home, collect the kids from school, muddle through an easy dinner, and often collapse into his bunk before either of the younglings were in bed, unable to keep his eyes open a second longer. He’d tried to stay in the pilot’s seat to sleep, but after the first night, tossing and turning and adjusting to try and give his sore muscles some relief, he’d wound up with a crick in his neck and a poor attitude he couldn’t shake, so he’d surrendered to the pull-down bunk. And he’d slept marginally better, even if he’d still woken up sore. 

Now, his heart clenched at the thought of Arni keeping their birthday to themself in order to spare him more work. 

The kid is more observant than anyone could ever guess. And too anxious about bothering other people. And considerate to a fault. 

They’d picked up the slack this week without him having to ask. Every morning, he’d awoken to the previous night’s dinner packed away in the refrigeration unit with the dishes they’d used washed, dried, and put away by Arni. Every morning, the young Twi’lek had Nita ready to go before Chuckles even thought to ask, her hair tied up in buns with silver ribbons, and Arni always assured him that any take-home work from school had been completed. Chuckles had planned on doing something special for them once he got his feet more underneath him. 

But a birthday could not wait. 

Luckily, he had today and tomorrow off, and while he’d planned to sleep in and indulge in an extra-long hot shower to relax, he knew now his day would be a busy one. He started making a mental checklist of everything he’d need to do. 

Head to the store and see what Grinz has in stock that could be used for a party. 

If there’s no cake at the shop, figure out how to make a cake. 

Decorations? What kind of decorations? Maybe Nita can be in charge of that. She should be in charge of something. 

Who can we invite? The kid probably has friends. 

I should call…

His thoughts trailed off as heat rushed to his face at the thought of Endi. With as busy as he’d been this week, there hadn’t been a spare second to think of anything else, especially not comming the kids’ very attractive teacher. 

How long is too long to wait to comm someone? Have I completely kriffed this up before it even started? 

Whatever it is.

Chuckles pulled the piece of flimsi from where he’d tucked it next to his bunk, running his thumbs over the creases and worn edges. A pang of guilt settled into his stomach as his thoughts drifted to the other woman with dark hair that Endi had made him think of. It had only been a handful of months, but she seemed like a lifetime ago, like a dream he almost couldn’t remember.  

She’d want you to be happy. 

I think.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of her. Hell, he’d been on his way to see her when everything went to shit. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of trying to reach out to her. 

Who says she even wants to hear from me? Especially after everything that happened? 

Does she think I killed younglings? That I became one of them? Or does she just assume I’m dead? 

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. 

I’m so sorry, Bolts. 

They hadn’t dated, at least not the way he’d wanted to, not the way she deserved. That was supposed to come after the war, when he wasn’t a soldier and she wasn’t a mechanic that worked on his fighter. He was going to take her to dinner, to court her like a normal guy would get to, without her having to worry that people would think she was favoring him over his brothers or their Jedi generals. She had even talked about opening up her own shop after the war in the evenings when they were still tangled up in one another in her bed. 

“I think it’d be nice to work on different speeders and crafts. It’s been nothing but gunships and fighters for the last three years. I can damn near guess what’s broken at this point without even looking at something,” she’d joked one night. 

“Oh yeah?” he’d retorted. “And what do you think is broken on my fighter this time?”

She’d rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow, her fingers trailing along his chest before she poked him in the sternum accusingly. 

“Your engine stabs are fucked.” 

“How could you possibly know it’s my stabilizers?” 

“Because you fly like an asshole, and I’ve had to replace them every few months. You’re due for a burnout.”

He’d scoffed in mock hurt before leaning in to kiss her. She’d giggled against his lips as she rolled him under her and straddled his hips. 

“I’m right aren’t I?” she asked, tongue poking between her teeth teasingly. 

He’d huffed, struggling to focus as she’d ground against him slightly. “Of course you are.” 

She’d cackled triumphantly before making him late to his first briefing of the morning. 

Now, the memory of her itched at the back of his mind as he rubbed the flimsi between his fingers again. His lips unconsciously traced the outline of her name, rolling the familiar syllables over his tongue silently. 

Brienna. 

“What?” 

He noticed Nita was still watching him, her brows furrowing in curiosity as she glanced back and forth from him to the scrap in his hand. He tucked it in his palm to hide it from view. 

“Nothing, just thinking.” He plowed forward without waiting to see if Nita bought it. “Alright kid, if we’re going to pull this off, you’re going to have to be my co-conspirator. Do you know what that means?”

Her smile didn’t falter. “No.”

“It means you’re my partner. My co-pilot for this mission.” 

She inhaled in excitement. “Are we going flying?”

“No.”

Her face fell this time. Chuckles’s mind scrambled to recover from its dead spin. 

“But what it does mean is that you have to be sneaky. We have to make sure it’s a surprise. Got it?” 

The promise of secrecy seemed to sweep away the little Pantoran’s disappointment. She danced gleefully in front of him. 

“Ok! What can I do?”

He leaned closer, glancing left and right as if there might be eavesdroppers. Nita’s face grew more serious, and she stepped closer as he leaned down conspiratorially. He cupped his hands around her ear. 

“I need you to keep Arni busy today and tomorrow maybe. Keep them out of the ship. Go exploring with them or something. Look for things to draw. But keep them occupied,” he whispered. “Think you can manage that?”

Nita was bouncing excitedly, but once again grew serious under the weight of this important task. 

“I can do it. I won’t let you down!” 

Chuckles extended his pinky, which she locked her pinky with. 

“I’m counting on you, soldier,” he said with all the authority he could muster while keeping a straight face. 

Nita drew herself up to attention, saluting him clumsily. “You can count on me!”

Chuckles had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. “Good. Now go wake up your sibling and get them out of here. Remember, you’ve got to be sneaky!” 

Nita didn’t waste another millisecond, bounding over to the bunk and practically tackling the snoozing Twi’lek. 

“ARNI! Wake up!” 

Chuckles couldn’t hear exactly what their response was, but their grumbling tone easily conveyed how little they appreciated being woken up in this manner. 

They’ll forgive her tomorrow. And hopefully me. 

Chuckles rolled onto his back, pulling his datapad up to start jotting down his to-do list for the day. To Nita’s credit, it only took her a few minutes to drag a reluctant Arni out of their bunk. The sleepy Twi’lek nodded at Chuckles as they shoved their sketchbook and pencils into a small satchel. 

“Where are you kids off to?”

“I SAW A TOOKA AND WANT ARNI TO COME HELP ME FIND IT!”

“We’re never gonna catch it, Nita. We never even get close.” 

“Well, maybe we will this time!”

Arni mumbled something unintelligible. 

“And I think it had babies with it!” Nita tried again, attempting to sweeten the pot. 

“Babies? Loth cats typically don’t bring their young out when they hunt,” Arni commented, but Chuckles could see they were suddenly more awake at that prospect of making an unusual scientific discovery. “Normally, they leave them in their nests.”

“Well, maybe we can find the nest! I bet that would be really cool! And full of cute babies!” 

Arni pondered for another moment, and Chuckles found himself holding his breath. 

“We’ll have to be careful because Loth cat mamas can be very protective of their kits,” they said, absently rubbing the birthmark on their cheek. “But it would be cool to draw a family.” 

“Let’s GO then!” Nita insisted. “Before we lose her!” 

“Ok, ok I’m coming! Just let me get my boots on. Go grab some protein bars and water for snacks!” 

“Those aren’t snacks.”

“Then get some real snacks too!” Arni replied excitedly. “But hurry!” They already had one boot on, and they were frantically lacing up their other one, hopping around on one foot. “What are you gonna do?” they asked, glancing over at Chuckles. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chuckles said as casually as he could. “Might sleep a little more and then head to the store for more supplies. Jerrno paid me early, so I can get us more food.” It was the first time he’d ever actually been paid for working in credits. He’d never had a problem working for Ry and getting paid in food and the occasional traded good. It had ensured the credits Chirrut and Baze had sent with them could be used for larger items and saved for emergencies, but there was something about earning the money that sent pride coursing through Chuckles. It felt silly, but it also felt good, and he’d take good. 

“We’re out of Spice Snappers. Could you get more of those if it’s not too much trouble?” Arni asked hesitantly. 

Anything for you, kiddo. 

“I’ll see what Grinz has at the store,” Chuckles promised. He hadn’t yet become acquainted with the shopkeeper, but from everything he’d heard at work, he was a kindly Ugnaut that was slightly hard of hearing, but made up for it with his terrible jokes and excellent sense of humor. 

Arni nodded, apparently satisfied with his promise to try. Nita returned a few moments later, her arms full of snacks, which Arni had to negotiate down to one pack that was small enough to fit in their satchel. Nita had clearly been disappointed, but when Chuckles met her eyes and winked at her, her dedication to their secret mission seemed to renew, and the frown quickly disappeared from her face. The two younglings raced down the lamp, shouting goodbyes over their shoulders as the hatch closed behind them. Chuckles laid back, allowing a few minutes to pass before he decided they definitely weren’t returning for any reason. He slipped the scrap of flimsi back out, staring at Endi’s delicate and neat writing.

You’re overthinking this. For all you know, she’s just being nice and welcoming. Maybe she really does just want to help mend Nita’s leggings. Don’t read too much into it. 

He punched in the frequency, listening to the crackle of static quietly fade to a dull beeping. The comm was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, and he was about to give up when a sleepy voice answered on the other end. 

“Hello?”

Oh karking hells. I woke her up. 

The sudden urge to sit up overtook him, and he swung his legs over the side of the bunk, resting his bare feet against the cool metal of the floor. His unoccupied hand wove into his hair, tugging nervously at the tips of his mohawk. He briefly considered cutting the link, but if he did that and called later, then she’d absolutely recognize the incoming frequency and know he was the one that had woken her up anyway. So if he did that, there’s no way he could ever comm her again. Unless he got another commlink…

“Is someone there?” 

He bumped the heel of his hand against his forehead. 

“Yeah, hey Teacher Endi, it’s me. Sorry, it’s Chuck. Chuckles.  I… I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I can call later.”

There was a soft laugh on the other end of the link. It made the tension in his shoulders release slightly. “No, it’s fine. I’m just getting out of bed to make my morning tea. Also, you can just call me Endi if you like.” 

The image of Endi getting out of bed invaded Chuckles’s mind. He imagined her in a practical nightgown, maybe something with a simple lace on the hem, her dark curls hanging loosely in her eyes and over her shoulders as she pulled on a delicate robe and made her way towards her kitchen. It probably smelled of cinnamon and herbs, and he imagined there was a window that allowed sunlight to trickle in, illuminating her light blue skin in a soft glow and making her golden eyes sparkle even more.

Her eyes are really beautiful.

“Umm… Chuckles?”

Kriff. Focus.

“Yeah. Sorry. Been a bit of a week.”

“Anj never goes easy on anyone, especially newcomers.”

He huffed a laugh of agreement, wiggling his toes against the floor of the ship and rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I know it’s probably poor manners to ask for a favor when you first call someone, but I’m in a bit of a bind, and I think you might be just the person to help me out of it.” 

He could hear water filling a kettle on the other end with Endi humming quietly in the background. 

“Well, technically you don’t have to ask since I offered to mend the leggings,” she teased. 

“Yeah. No, I’m still likely going to take you up on that. But… there’s something else.” Chuckles sighed in frustration, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I know… I know this is going to make me sound like a horrible father, but Arni’s birthday is tomorrow, and I didn’t know. And now I do, and I want to pull something together. I know it’s last minute, but they do so much, and I feel like a karking idiot for not knowing my own kid’s birthday, but clones don’t really celebrate birthdays, so it’s not exactly something I’m used to doing and-”

“Chuckles… CHUCKLES!” She finally managed to interrupt him, and he fell silent. She giggled softly again. “Listen, you told me about how short of a time you’ve been together, so I know you’re all still figuring things out. You caught it before it happened, so there’s still time to fix it. And you’ve been a bit busy trying to keep them fed. So maybe give yourself a bit of a break?” 

He huffed another quiet laugh. “I just… I barely know where to start. I don’t even know what to get them. They never ask for anything.”

“I might have a few ideas,” Endi offered. 

He grinned. “I’m all ears.” 

—

Chuckles was glad he’d used the ship’s ‘fresher before heading into town, especially when he stepped into Grinz’s shop and a loud alarm started blaring with flashing lights. Otherwise, he would have had to procure a new pair of trousers as well.

“KARKING HELLS!” he shouted, his hands flying to cover his ears. His eyes darted around for any way to shut the alarm off. There were rows and rows of goods, but in his urgency, he couldn’t find anything that looked like an “off” button. When his eyes finally fell on the counter, he jogged over and practically launched himself up on the surface, pushing himself forward until his lower stomach and hips were pressed into the countertop as he hung over the other side upside down, scanning for the button that would stop the cacophony. His fingers felt along the inner edge of the underside of the counter, trying to find anything. 

Come on, there’s gotta be a switch here or something.

“WUDDER YOU DOIN’?!” came a startled exclamation from his left. Chuckles whipped his head around only to find himself nose to nose with what appeared to be the business end of a dried sausage. Holding the sausage was a glaring Ugnaut with bushy eyebrows. He apparently hadn’t thought to grab for the blaster at his hip, a thing Chuckles was immediately grateful for. 

“WHOA! HOLD IT!” he shouted, raising his hands over his head in surrender. Due to his upside down position, his fingertips brushed the floor. “YOU WANNA TURN OFF THE ALARM?”

“WHAT?” shouted the Ugnaut. 

“I SAID DO YOU WANT TO TURN OFF THE ALARM?” 

The Ugnaut shook his head. “HANG ON, LET ME TURN OFF THE ALARM.” 

Chuckles sighed as the Ugnaut stepped back towards the entrance to what appeared to be a storage room, tapping a discolored tile on the wall. Immediately, the room fell silent and the lights ceased strobing. Chuckles pushed himself back over the counter, digging a pinky into his still-ringing ear. The Ugnaut re-emerged from the backroom, still giving Chuckles a suspicious glare as he wielded his sausage weaponry. He waddled over to an overturned crate, hopping up on it and leaning on the counter to survey Chuckles warily. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, waving the sausage threateningly. 

“Chuckles.”

“WHA?”

“CHUCKLES, SIR.” 

“Alright calm down, sonny. No need to shout. I’m not that hard o’ hearin’.” He tittered to himself slightly at that. “Although that is why I’ve got the alarm system. Damn bell was too quiet when someone came in.” 

Chuckles couldn’t suppress his grin any longer. “I take it you’re the owner of this establishment then.” 

“‘Pends who’s askin’.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “You say your name’s Chuckles?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Can’t recall seein’ you ‘round.”

“Just rolled into town this last week. I’m working at the mine.”

The Ugnaut’s beady eyes lit up. “Ah, you’re Anj’s new guy! She’s been in here talkin’ ‘boutcha. I’ve heard things.”

“Good things, I hope.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Says you’re a clone. That true?” 

Chuckles swallowed hard. “I am. That a problem?”

The Ugnaut leaned on the counter, inspecting Chuckles with a stern gaze that made him rock back on his heels reflexively. After a few moments, he straightened. “Shame, that.”

“What is?”

“That there’re a million of you out there with that face. You’d think they’d have made you just a little less ugly if they were gonna do it a million times,” he barked out between guffaws, holding his rotund belly, which was jiggling with mirth. “Ah, I’m just joshin’ with you, Chuckles. You’re a fine looker.” He held out a stubby hand. “Name’s Grinz, but I assume you knew that from the sign out front.” 

Chuckles decided it was best not to tell his new compatriot that the hand-painted sign he’d haphazardly nailed to the outside of the shop was far from legible. The green painted roof had been the identifying feature Endi had given him to find the place. He clasped the Ugnaut’s hand, giving it a shake of greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Grinz. I’ve heard you’re the man to come to if I’m in need of supplies.” 

“Indeed I am. What can I get you?” 

“I need to restock on some food. Got two kids to feed. And I uh… need some help with planning a birthday party. My oldest kid is turning eleven tomorrow.” 

The Ugnaut’s eyes were sparkling as he clapped his hands together. “A birthday, you say? Well, we can certainly get something for the kid. You got plans? Ideas for gifts?” 

“I’m trying to pull together a quick party with Teacher Endi over at the schoolhouse. She was the one that sent me your way in the first place.” He still couldn’t quite bring himself to drop her formal title completely just yet. It felt improper, and like an admission that something was happening between them. 

Grinz smiled. “That Endi is the best person you could have recruited to help you. She’s great with the kiddos. She always seems to know exactly what to do in a pinch. Not a bad cook either, from what I hear.” Chuckles wasn’t sure if Grinz was gauging him or implying anything, but it did feel like his eyes lingered on him for a beat too long as if he were waiting for a reaction. He nodded, returning the Ugnaut’s grin. 

“Hope so. She volunteered to make some cakes, and I wasn’t about to stop her.” 

“Mmm… she send you with a list?”

“Yes sir.” Chuckles extended out the datapad he had typed Endi’s list on. Grinz abandoned his sausage weaponry and produced a bent pair of spectacles from the breast pocket of his shirt, perching them on his snout. They rocked slightly, and he steadied them with one hand as he held the datapad out in front of him to read. “Alright… flour, sugar, sprinkles, should have all of that. At the bottom says charcoal pencils?” 

“Yeah, she said you had a set in stock and maybe a set of colored pencils? My kid, Arni, they love to sketch wildlife and plants, and they’ve damn near worn down the set of colored pencils and charcoals they do have. She thought maybe you could help me replace them.” 

“Well, she’d know. You work with Helly too, dontcha?”

“I do.” 

“Well, you may want your youngin’ to go talk to her. She’s got quite a collection of specimens. Even does some drawings and submits them for publication every once in a while. She’s pretty darn good if you ask me. Although I’m not the most cultured being ‘round these parts.” He hopped off the stool, waddling along shelves. Chuckles followed, and after a few moments, barely caught the bag of flour that was tossed at him. “Keep up, Chuck. We’re gonna get you out of here quick-like so you can get to bakin’ with Miss Endi.” 

Chuckles huffed a laugh. “Yes, sir.” 

It took Grinz less than ten minutes to find every item on the list along with a few bonus items he insisted Chuckles take for the kids. He even managed to find a bag of Arni’s Spice Snappers, promising to make a note for his next shipment to include more. When he was paying, Chuckles noticed there was no charge for the charcoal or pencils. 

“Grinz, wait. You forgot-”

The Ugnaut held up a hand. “I won’t be takin’ money for these. You tell your kiddo I just want to see some of their work they do with it. That’ll be payment enough.” 

“Grinz, these can’t have been cheap. I’m good for it.”

“I know y’are. Jerrno wouldn’ta hired you if you weren’t. And Anj says you’re good, and she’s hard to impress.” He reached over the counter, clapping Chuckles on the shoulder. “Welcome to the community, friend. Now get goin’. Don’t want to keep Miss Endi waitin’.” 

This time, Chuckles was certain he saw a flicker of mischief in Grinz’s eyes as he handed him the last of his parcels. 

—

Chuckles hustled back to the ship, relieved to find that Nita was still keeping Arni occupied somewhere else. As quickly as he could, he put the supplies away before tossing the ingredients Endi had specified and the birthday gifts into one of the empty bags and dashing off towards the schoolhouse to meet her. 

Bounding up the steps, he hesitated for a moment at the closed door, smoothing his shirt and mohawk nervously. Before he could raise a knuckle to knock, the door burst open, and Chuckles was surprised to find a familiar Rodian staring back at him. 

“Helly?”

“Hiya, Chuck! Come on in!” She stepped back, ushering him inside, and Chuckles was surprised to find the classroom full of people. Anj was sitting in one corner working on a string of lights, and after closing the door, Helly dashed back over to help her. There were also a handful of people he didn’t recognize seated at a table in the back of the classroom, some adults and some children. One little Togruta girl looked up from the paper chain she was working on and waved shyly at him. He waved back.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it’s not just me and Endi. This is great. And you’re not disappointed at all. At all. 

“That was quick!” He turned to find Endi gracefully sweeping towards him, and his slight disappointment was forgotten when she smiled at him. She peered into the bag, poking through the items contained within. “Looks like Grinz had everything we need too! Excellent. Here, let me take this.” Before he could protest, she scooped the bag out of his arms and turned to address the room. “Everyone, this is Chuckles. He’s Arni’s father.” 

All eyes turned towards him, and Chuckles wanted to spontaneously combust. He waved timidly again. “I uh… appreciate the help with all of this.” 

Endi patted him on the shoulder. “I explained to them how this is the first birthday Arni is celebrating with you, and that you wanted to ensure it was special, even though you’ve all had quite the first week.” She winked, and he felt heat sweep over his face. His tongue felt like lead as he searched for the right words. 

“Thanks,” was all he came up with. 

“Of course,” she whispered back, gently guiding him towards the people seated around the back table. “These are members of Arni’s class and their families.” They went around and introduced themselves. There was a little human boy named Cen, and his fathers both embraced Chuckles in strong hugs. He learned that the little Togruta girl was Ooni, the child that had been on the receiving end of Dez’s bullying the first day he’d dropped the kids off. Dez was noticeably absent. 

Probably for the best. Kid sounded like a dick. 

It took him a few moments to realize he’d been guided to a seat by Endi, given a task, and she’d disappeared from view. 

“Where’d Endi go?” he asked without thinking. When he noticed a raised eyebrow from one of Cen’s fathers, he quickly added. “I left the gifts for Arni in that bag she has.” 

“She’s probably in her apartment in the back baking,” Ooni’s mother suggested. “I think I saw her head that way.”

“She lives in the schoolhouse?” 

“She says it’s more convenient that way,” Cen’s less discerning father noted. “It’s not a bad little apartment. I installed her power and water system when we were getting her set up. I can take you back if you want.”

“Nah, I can wait,” Chuck replied. Somehow, going into Endi’s living space felt like an invasion of something. He wasn’t ready to plunge into that territory just yet. 

The conversation came easy after a while, Chuck’s shoulders loosening as he helped make banners and paper chains. Anj and Helly got their light strings working and came over to help with the paper decorations. The Nautolan plopped down in the seat next to him, elbowing him in the ribs. He winced. 

“Ah, not that bad then,” she teased. “If you were as sore as you were a few rotations back, that’d have put you in a medcenter.” 

“That’s true, I suppose,” he muttered, rubbing at the sore spot. “So does that mean I pass?”

Anj laughed loudly. “You passed after the third day, my friend. You work hard and you didn’t give up, even when we pressed you a bit. Even Lu agrees, and he’s a tough customer.” Chuckles couldn’t stop the flush of pride that overtook him, tugging the corner of his lips up into a grin. 

“Glad to have passed the test.”

“Welcome to the team!” Helly cheered. 

“By the way, Helly, I hear you’re into science and artwork,” Chuckles said, turning towards the Rodian. 

“I am!” she excitedly confirmed. 

“Then I need another favor…”

—

The day passed quickly, and before Chuckles knew it, Lothal’s sun was sinking low on the horizon, making way for its twin moons. The parents and kids filed out with Anj and Helly lingering to say goodbye before also disappearing into the night. 

The paper chains and decorations they’d crafted were draped across the back table along with the strings of lights that Anj and Helly had detangled and repaired, ready and waiting to be hung the next day. Endi had also found some colored glass decorations, and they twinkled in the light where they sat. The parents and kids had all offered to decorate tonight, but Chuckles had apologetically declined, having promised Nita she could be in charge of the decorations. They all seemed to be understanding, especially the two children that had actually met Nita. Now, Chuckles was sweeping up the last of the paper scraps to be disposed of as Endi emerged from her apartment, carrying a cupcake in each hand. 

“Everyone else head out?” she asked. 

“Yeah, they’re all gone. Figured I shouldn’t leave the place a mess when you’ve gone through all this trouble to help me,” he replied, emptying the last of the scraps into the waste bin. 

“Well, good. That means you can help me with the quality control of these,” she joked, handing one to him. “I thought cupcakes might be easier for sharing, if that’s alright. The ones tomorrow will have frosting and sprinkles, but I wanted them to cool off first.”

Chuckles grinned, taking the cupcake from her. “That’s perfect. Thanks.” 

“I hope Arni likes chocolate.” 

“I think they do. And honestly, they’d never tell you if they didn’t. But I’ve seen them nibble on a chocolate bar every now and again. If Nita doesn’t eat them all first.” 

Endi giggled lightly, perching on the surface of her desk as she took a bite of the cupcake. Chuckles eyed one of the student desks in the front of the room. They were smaller, meant for children. But that wasn’t enough to deter him. Especially if it meant getting another laugh out of Endi. Crouching down, he stuffed his knees under the desk, setting his cupcake on the work surface as he wiggled further into the seat. When he raised his eyes, Endi was watching him with an expression of suppressed mirth, her eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“Comfortable?” 

“Never better,” Chuckles grunted. He now realized this may have been a terrible idea, as many of his comedic plans were. But still, the way she was smiling at him made it all seem worth it. He took a bite out of the cupcake. 

“MMMMM,” he groaned. There were small pockets of chocolate chips inside that melted when they hit his tongue, and the cake surrounding them was so moist and soft. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted something like this. It only took a few more bites for him to finish, leaving behind only a smattering of crumbs as evidence. When he glanced up again, he realized Endi was still watching him, now covering her mouth in an attempt to hide a fit of giggles. He felt that familiar heat creep over his cheeks. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I do normally have some table manners.”

“Don’t be,” she giggled. “I’m taking that as the highest compliment.” 

“You should. I can’t remember the last time I tasted anything that good.” 

“I have to imagine there weren’t a lot of bakeries on your campaigns during the war.”

“You’d be correct. There was one spot on Coruscant that we’d sometimes go to if we could scrape together enough credits, but those instances were few and far between.” The bakery had been one of Stones’s favorite places, a hidden gem with the most incredible jogan fruit sticky buns. They had sworn their unit to secrecy, afraid that their coveted baked goods would become limited in availability if word got out amongst the ranks. Only a few select brothers outside of the 28th had been allowed to know the secret, and only if they were certain to keep it quiet. Out of all of them, Commander Wolffe had taken it the most seriously and been the most dutiful about maintaining the secrecy. 

“You’re thinking of your brothers, aren’t you?”

Chuckles ducked his head under her golden stare. “Sorry.” 

“I know you probably have to get going soon so that the kids don’t get suspicious, but if you’d ever feel up for it, I’d love to hear more about your brothers. What they were like.” 

He met her gaze, and Maker, if he wasn’t made of sturdier stuff, he’d have turned into a puddle on the schoolhouse floorboards. The way she was looking at him didn’t hold an ounce of the pity he’d become accustomed to from natborns. She wasn’t looking at him as though he was some sacrificial creature that had survived a culling. Instead, there was genuine interest, kindness, and empathy staring back at him. He wanted to hug her. 

“I may take you up on that,” he said quietly. The thought of being able to share his brothers with someone else felt like a comfort. Of course, he’d spoken about them to Arni and Nita, but there were some things about them that kids wouldn’t understand. And some stories that they shouldn’t hear until they’re older. 

They watched each other quietly for another moment before Endi inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly and breaking the stare. “So, do you have a plan for tomorrow then?” 

“I do. Helly’s going to stop by in the morning under the ruse of delivering some of my gear for work, and while there, she’ll mention her hobby to Arni and offer to show the kid her specimens and sketches. Arni won’t be able to turn that down. They can’t resist any sort of educational activity, as you may have noticed.” She snorted into her cupcake as she took another bite, and he smiled as he continued. “After that, I’ll bring Nita here. I’ve promised to let her be in charge of decorations, so I think she’ll have a lot of opinions about where to hang what and how things should be organized. We’ll get things setup, and then Helly promised to send me a comm when she and Arni are heading this way. Boom. Surprise. Ooni’s parents also offered to make some punch, and Cen’s dads have some games they promised to bring. All in all, I think it’s about as good of a party as I could have hoped for.” He smiled up at her. “And I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

It was her turn to duck her head bashfully, some of the purple blush he’d noticed the first day he’d met her reappearing in her cheeks. “It was absolutely my pleasure. Your children are both delightful, and I know what it’s like to be a newcomer in this community. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make sure Arni knows they’re more than welcome here. As is Nita. And you.” 

He picked at a fingernail nervously. “I appreciate that. It’s been… hard for them. We thought the last place would be our home, but it just didn’t work out. Nita was devastated, and while Arni didn’t say as much, I know they took it hard as well.” He sighed. “I’m still figuring out this parenting thing, but Arni’s my rock. They hold it together when I can’t and take on far too much responsibility. Couldn’t have made it this far without them.” He met her gaze again. “So, I’m extra grateful you helped me pull this off for them. They deserve all of it and more, even though they’d never ask.” 

Endi’s eyes were sparkling. “They strike me as that kind of kid.” 

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Endi spoke again. 

“You can’t get out of that desk, can you?”

“Sure I can,” he retorted with mock annoyance. “It’s just going to be less than dignified.” 

Endi tipped her head back and laughed loudly. It sounded almost musical. Chuck beamed as his heart fluttered in his chest.

A/N: Bolts/Brienna was originally a reader-insert character that was first introduced in this ficlet and it's parts 2-4, so if you want to learn more about her and Chuck's history, I'd recommend checking those out. Heads up that they are all *spicy*.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @rennyboo @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[pyreshe]

once again I am Thinking about livvys padawan verse and the fact that by the time she arrives at the temple when she's like 5ish, she has already straight up murdered someone.

[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

[silkling]

Could we see some more of the Smokescreen is Amalgamous AU?

Very gladly! That AU is a guilty pleasure of mine so I’m happy someone out there likes it!

———————————————————————————————————

There was darkness. It was cold, and painful and it pulled-

The planet screamed, and his people died. They died, and died , and-

Then, heat. Like a blast, it exploded-

His children, his dearest, beloved children, could only watch in horror-

His spark sang with terror, so much he thought-

“Amalgamous.”

“Remember.”

“Do it.”

“You must remember.”

And so the other children and their father combined their powers-

“You have a duty.”

But things went wrong-

“YOU MUST-“

——————————

Smokescreen was torn from his processor with a rough, choking gasp, and he felt something disconnect from the back of his helm. His shuddered on the hard metal berth he was strapped down to, his optics taking a moment longer to clear of the dark static clouding them. When they did, he turned his head towards the sounds he was hearing and saw Knock Out disconnecting Megatron from the cortical psychic patch. The warlord was on his pedes and at Smokescreen’s face in half a sparkbeat.

“What was that, Autobot? Why could I not walk through your processor as I pleased?” he snarled.

Smokescreen could only groan and let his helm fall back against the berth. “You really think I know? I don’t. I’ve been having those weird dreams and hearing those voices in my helm ever since I got to Earth.” he snapped irritably. “Sure, I heard weird things in my recharge sometimes on Cybertron, but it only ever got bad on this planet.” If he could have thrown his hands up, he would have.

Megatron stepped back, seemingly confused. “…you are very free with your tongue on this matter.” he remarked dryly.

Smokescreen shot him a look. “It’s annoying. And frustrating. I don’t know if I’m going insane or if there’s just a really traumatic set of memories from my youth that suddenly want me to remember them, but I never get a clear grasp on what I happen to see or hear. You think I want any of that? You got snippets of just a couple of my nights. I have to deal with that slag all night, every night, whenever I recharge.” his tone was tired and wry.

Megatron, blessedly, didn’t seem to take offense. He was too confused and weirded out. It seemed he got over it quickly though, because then his face twisted into a cruel snarl again and he turned to Knock Out. “We will try again. Increase the strength of the machine. I intend to go deeper. I will learn the function of these infernal relics and the location of the Autobot base.” he spat, whirling and returning to the other berth.

Before Smokescreen could protest, the patch was attached to the back of his helm again and he was pulled back into his own processor.

——————————

He had snuck out of his berthroom. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, and if one of his big brothers found out he’d be in so much trouble, but he was bored! It was so dull in his room, and even trying to imagine new shapes and forms and doing his best to change into them was starting to feel monotonous. He just wanted to explore! He was still a sparkling, was it too much to ask for some entertainment?

He toddled last guards and servants alike, staying close to the wall and in the shadows to keep out of sight. He had a mission, and no one was going to stop him!

“There you are, Ammy! I was looking for you, little one.”

No one except his big sister, apparently. He squealed as slim hands lifted him up and tucked him against a lithe chest, his small lips turning downwards in a pout. “Sol! No!” he whined.

Sol only smiled indulgently. “Oh? Why not? Why aren’t you in your room, little Ammy?”

He sagged. “Don’t wanna.” He mumbled. “‘S boring. No one wants to play and lessons are hard and big brothers don’t like me so can’ ask them for help.” he said miserably.

Sol softened. “Oh sweetspark, why would you ever believe our brothers don’t like you?”

He shot her a confused look, lifting a hand and trying to change it into a claw, only…it failed and transformed into a flipper instead. After a moment, the transformation seemed to shudder and his servo reverted back to normal without him having sent the command. “Cause I can’t do good with the gift Sire gave me?”

Sol laughed, light and free. “Oh little one.” she cooed. “It’s perfectly alright that you’re going slow. You have a wonderful, amazing gift, and if it takes you a little longer to figure it out then that’s not a problem. Our brothers don’t blame you for that, nor do they hate you.”

He whimpered, lower lip trembling. “Then why…?”

She sighed. “They are mechs, dearest little brother. Very foolish young mechs with the emotional intelligence of a treat oven.” she remarked dryly.

He blinked, then giggled despite himself.

Sol smiled at him, pleased to see her youngest brother cheering up. “Promise me you won’t ever be as emotionally posh and stunted as them, will you little Ammy?”

He beamed, his chest plates puffing out. “Promise!” he crowed.

Sol grinned. “Good. Now, where was it you were going on your little adventure? Perhaps you’d like a lieutenant for your quest?” she asked.

He gasped, delighted. Big sister was going to join him? That would be perfect! “The Singing Crystals!”

Sol laughed, and turned in the direction of the gardens. “Then to the Singing Crystals we shall go!”

He could only giggle in utter delight, a gentle adoration for his sister and sheer joy at being acknowledged filling his spark.

Now, if only he could convince his biggest brother to let him try his cool sword…

——————————

Smokescreen groaned as he was forced into the conscious world again. “Can you stop that?” he complained weakly. “It’s a pain and I can’t think right.”

The warlord, who was also coming up after that, only snarled and stood. “What was that?” he spat.

“I don’t know! How many times do I have to tell you! That was new, even for me, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it because I have no clue what it was!”

The exhausted shout seemed to give Megatron pause. “So I see.” he said darkly. “You do not have siblings, then?”

“No!” Smokescreen groaned. “No brothers, no sisters, and I don’t even remember my creators. I grew up in a Youth Center, for Pit’s sake. Not…what that was.”

Megatron hummed. The youngling seemed to be telling the truth. He could tell that the repeated uses of the cortical psychic patch had exhausted the young mechling. There was no deception in his tone or body language or EM field. The warlord thought he was too mentally drained to even try and come up with a proper lie. Which meant he really did know nothing, and that was even more irritating. With a disgusted scoff, he grabbed the odd relic and turned to the door.

“Knock Out!” he barked over his shoulder. “You will continue. Do not stop until you have the information I require. Rip his mind to pieces if you must!” and then the doors shut behind him, and the two sports cars were left alone.

Knock Out sighed, and before the youngling could pull his mind together he reattached the patch, before setting the machine to pull him out after a set amount of time and went to the other berth to plus himself into it. Whatever his Lord demanded, he had to obey. It was annoying, really. This task was so beneath him. Regardless, he attached himself to the machine, and then the world faded to dark.

——————————

They were floating in darkness. Smokescreen didn’t know why. Though, he was pleased to note he wasn’t being thrown into visions or voices or memories this time around. At least he could avoid that headache. But, he couldn’t see the medic and that worried him. Was the Deception actually rooting around his memory banks. He felt a sharp pain, and a flash of memory from his time at the Archives assaulted him before it faded. Apparently yes, Knock Out was in fact ripping through his memories to get what he wanted.

Panic boiled in his chest and he wanted to scream. No! He refused to let the ‘Cons figure out what the Keys were for or where the base was. He wouldn’t betray the team like that. He wouldn’t! His panic grew as there was another stab of pain, another snapshot of a memory, and then…something in the very depths of his processor surged to the forefront. It wasn’t a personality. It wasn’t a memory. Smokescreen knew that much. Something in his spark settled, telling him that it was an echo, and impression of instinct and reflex and knowledge that had once been his. It circled and coiled around him, settling against his frame, and Smokescreen….gave in to it. Maybe it would help him stop knock Out.

As soon as he did, the feel of the Autobot’s mind changed, becoming older, more powerful and heavier on the one rooting through his memories. It made Knock Out pause, and he sensed a presence roaring towards him.

“Leave, intruder. You have no right to sift through the mind of a Prime. Leave, before I see fit to fry your processor!”

Knock Out gasped, and then the thing, whatever it was, he couldn’t even see it, rammed into him at full speed, and he was flung from the Autobot’s mind.

——————————

Knock Out came to with a yell and an ungainly flail. He flailed himself right off the berth, hitting the ground with a harsh crash and blinking the static from his vision. He looked to the Autobot to demand what in the Pit had happened, only-

Only there was a femme there. She was transparent and her colors couldn’t really be determined, her flickering form shining with a golden orange glow. She turned to him at his shout, humming. She seemed amused. “I see you’ve learned what it means to go up against my little brother, medic.” a faint smirk twisted at elegant features, “I suggest you endeavor to avoid angering him in the future. He is the most laid back of all my siblings, but it only means that in the end, his anger is the rarest and most fearsome.” she purred.

Then she seemingly dismissed him, turning to the Autobot instead. She leaned in, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s time to wake up, dearest Ammy. There’s still work to be done.” she cooed. She swiped her hand through the machine for the cortical psychic patch, and it fritzed and disconnected itself from the youngling. He began stirring, and the femme smiled. “Come now, don’t be difficult. Wake up, little brother.” she whispered, her hand swiping through the restraints. They disengaged, and the Autobot fell to his knees on the floor.

That was enough to snap Knock Out out of his staring, and he made to get up and stop whatever this all was when he felt a clawed servo dig into his shoulder. He glanced back, seeing another pale, ghostly shape, this time a large and pointy mech flowing with a deep blue light, and baring sharp dentae at him. “Do not try to stop us, little mech. Will not allow it.” And then the mech glowed brighter for a second, and Knock Out fell back into unconsciousness.

——————————

Smokescreen onlined his optics to the phantom feeling of fingers brushing his cheek. He shook his head, clearing the buzz of static, and his vocalizer clicked with his confusion. He remembered the odd presence in his mind, that had been a part of him but also one not fully integrated, and…he didn’t know what to make of it. It was gone, now, resettled into the back of his processor, but he could still feel it there. It was important. Whatever it was, it was the other half of…whatever is was the voices seemed to desperate for him to remember.

He looked up, doorwings hitching when he saw the ghostly femme. It was the one from his vision. Or had it actually be a memory? If it was, isn’t hadn’t been his. She smiled at him, leaning in to brush lips across his forehelm.

“You must go now, little brother. You have a duty to fulfill. Reclaim the Keys and return to your friends.” she smiled gently. “You’re getting very close, my Ammy. You must remember soon. Cybertron’s children depend on it.” Before he could question her, she stepped back and stood. “I cannot maintain my presence on this plane any longer. The rest is up to you.” And then she was gone.

He blinked, resetting his vocalizer, and glanced over to see the medic was unconscious. He had no idea what was going on. He was starting to accept that this just might be his life now. “Okay then.” he said after a moment.

He stood, and his optics fell on the Phase Shifter on the table by the berth he’d been strapped to. He was quick to grab it and lock it around his wrist, and then he was moving. Most of his escape to the upper deck was a haze. He moved on instinct built in by his training as an Elite Guard, but also….also other instincts, instincts that could only come from that place in the back of his processor that felt like it was a piece of his very spark.

It was when he was in free fall that he was able to pull back to himself, just as his comm. beeped. He accepted it, already knowing who was on the other end.

“Kid!”

Yep, that was Ratchet. “Hey, Ratch!” he said cheerfully, though he couldn’t keep the sheer exhaustion from his voice. “I really, really need a ground bridge right about now!”

“It’s coming kid, just hold on.”

And then there was silence on his end of the comm. line. After a moment, a ground bridge opened under him, and he remembered to turn off the phase shifter, stowing the Omega Keys in his subspace while he was at it. Of course, Megatron chose that moment to slam into him and send him flying. He panicked, and when he tried to turn the phase shifter on again he realized he couldn’t. It had been damaged when Megatron hit him. It would be an easy enough fix…if he could get back to base, that is. Unfortunately, it looked like that wouldn’t be happening. The ground was too close for Ratchet to open up another ground bridge.

“Youngling!” Ratchet’s voice was frantic over the comms. “You’re about to fall into a technological dead zone. We won’t be able to communicate with you or track your-“ and then the signal cut off. Slag. His team couldn’t save him, and Megatron was quickly gaining on his falling form.

If only he had wings and thrusters-!

And then his doorwings and pedes tingled, and he did. That same instinct that had led him out of the Nemesis guided him into turning on the thrusters, and then he was shooting up and away from the ground. He increased power to them, and he was rocketing away from Megatron’s pursuing form. His processor was scrambling like mad, trying to understand why he was suddenly flight capable. This shouldn’t be possible. Only Shifters we’re able to transform so freely and fluidly. But Shifters had also died out generations ago, so he couldn’t be one…could he?

Yes. That increasingly familiar instinct purred.

He kept flying, going and going as his mind buzzed and could never come up with answers. He only stopped when his pedes, or rather his thrusters, started to throb, and he realized he was pushing too much power into them. He landed, stumbling and crashing as his pedes touched down, and he just wanted the unfamiliar additions gone. His frame tingled again, and then they were gone. Though, he realized his pedes still hurt, and when he looked down he saw they were damaged. The injuries had carried over from the thrusters, maybe? It didn’t matter. The others would assume it was Decepticon doing. He wouldn’t correct them. Whatever his frame had done…he didn’t think it was wise to let anyone know just yet.

His comm. beeped again, and he accepted on reflex.

“Smokescreen!” Oh hey, it was Prime. “Youngling, are you harmed? We have picked up your signal once more. How did you get there?”

“I-“ and he couldn’t keep his vocalizer from spitting static as his voice broke due to exhaustion. He reset it, trying again. “I don’t know, Sir.” he said, falling back on ingrained military training. “After I lost communications everything just happened so fast and it’s all just a haze.”

There was silence on the other end, before Prime’s once came back, notably softer. “Ratchet is sending a ground bridge. Just come home for now, Smokescreen. We can worry about the details of your escape once you’ve recovered. Are you hurt?”

The ground bridge spiraled open in front of him, and the young Praxian swallowed. “A little. Mostly tired. I have the Keys.” he said numbly, then dropped the line and stepped through the bridge.

He pulled the Omega Keys from his subspace as he did so. As soon as he stepped into the base, the bridge closed behind him and he pushed the Keys into the arms of the nearest person, who turned out to be Bumblebee. He heard Ratchet curse, and realize the medic probably saw the state of his pedes. Yeah, they weren’t pretty. They were also very, very painful. He turned to the medic to ask him about that, but before he could he felt a small prick in his neck cables, and the was slipping into blissful darkness.

——————————

Back in the forest where Smokescreen had stepped into the bridge, two ghostly forms shimmered into view. One, a golden femme. The other, a midnight mech.

The femme spoke first. “Even in a new frame and with no memories of his true self, Ammy is still the same.” she sounded inexplicably fond.

“Ugh. I would have hoped his lack of memories would grant him the chance to learn maturity.” the mech groused.

She laughed. “Come now, Onyx. You know you love him as much as the rest of us.”

Onyx growled, eyes narrowing. “He has to remember soon,Solus. Otherwise, it may be too late.”

“He will.” Solus said, confident. “Of course, he would remember sooner if Sire would stop being so cryptic and just send him a clear message.”

The two ghostly forms looked at each other, before snorting and devolving to laughter.

“The day Sire abandons his riddles and puzzles is the day the Unmaker decides to become a treat maker. It’s not happening.” Onyx sniggered roughly.

Solus hummed. “No, I imagine not. That just means it’s up to dearest Amalgamous to figure it out on his own. I have faith, though. He’s always been clever.”

Onyx sighed. “You’re right, I know you are. I just wish he’d hurry it up and remember. The fate of Cybertron may well depend on it.”

And then, the two forms faded from this plane and returned to their own, the powers that had allowed them to cross over now spent. All that was left was two swirling eddies of leaves on the wind, in the spaces they had once stood.

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! It’s all starting to come together at last! Poor Smokescreen still has no idea what’s happening, but he’s getting more and more pieces of the puzzle with each day. This time, he even got a proper memory! And his Shifter abilities are starting to return!

Unfortunately for him, now it’s not just Optimus who suspects that there’s something up with Smokey. Megatron just doesn’t know if the young Autobot is insane, or is it’s something…more.

I hope everyone liked that! It was fun to write. I like Smokescreen. I wish more people did.

As always, my ask box is always open if you want to ask a question about anything to do with me/my blog/my AUs, or if you just want to send in a fic prompt yourself.

Until next time, friends!

[certifiedskywalker]

Trust Me - Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

shazam-levi

I don't know if you've already gotten this request, but I'll tell you anyway. Could you set it during episode 8 when they are battling moff gideon and when mando almost dies the reader force heals him. He tells her he loves her since he thinks he'll die but she stays and saves him. They already have feelings for each other, but both finally confess after the battle. Lots of fluff and angst. Please let me know if this works!

AN: Made a slight change in the request but I hope that’s okay. I don’t like the idea that Din just says “I love you”. I think Din shows his love rather than verbally addressing it. I hope you get the romantic subtext!

“We’re not leaving without you,” Cara snapped, her stern features pointed at the Mandalorian, at Din, who lay against a slab of stone rumble. 

“You need to protect the Child,” he choked out. 

You cringed at the sound of his hoarse voice. The modulator in the mask did little to make him sound the slightest bit hopeful. You leaned towards him, resting a careful hand on his helmet. Even without closing your eyes or actively communing with the Force, you could feel the severity of his wound. Din’s visor turned to face you.

“Y/N, please,” the desperation in his voice made your chest ache. “Leave me here...get him out of here.”

You shook your head at his order. You could never follow through on such a demand had been through too much with Din to just leave him to die alone. There was something you could do, you had to do, even if it meant exposing yourself. If Din was willing to trust you with the trust, you could trust him with your truth. “I can-”

“Whatever we’re going to do we need to do it fast,” Greef said, panic lacing his tone. It was hard to hear the ex-magistrate over IG-11 as the droid cut the sewer grate out of the cantina wall. “They’ll be coming in any-”

The roar of sudden flames cut Greef’s warning short. Heat washed over you like a dry wave of doom. You turned towards the door where a red detail, armored trooper lurked, a fire-turret in hand. The sight alone was enough to throw you back to the past.

In your memory, you heard the blaster-fire of Republic issued rifles as Clones fired on you and your Master, Stass Allie. The heat, so horribly similar to the deserts on Saleucami. Your forced your eyes shut and took a calming breath. Slowly, your heart rate steadied and you pulled yourself back to the present. There was no time to hesitate or get caught on past phantoms; there were people with you now who needed your help.

“Protect the Child.” Din’s voice was weak, a barely-there sound. Whatever he was clinging to was wearing thin. You opened your eyes and pulled your hand away from Din’s helmet. “I can fend them off...let you escape.”

“No,” Cara protested just as the pyro-trooper returned in the burning doorway. You looked over and felt a shock of adrenaline run through your body. Waddling confidently up towards the scorched remains of the cantina entrance was the Child. Before you could lunge towards the creature, the trooper released a fresh flame from the turret. 

With wide eyes you watched the Child raise its tiny hands up towards the racing fire. You felt a gust of pure power in the Force, the kind that you once felt as a youngling with Master Yoda. Sensing the Child’s strength and intentions, you threw yourself over Din’s chest in an attempt to protect him from the incoming heat. You felt one of Din’s arms around your waist as if he wanted to press you as close as possible. When flames didn’t envelop you all, you lifted your head from Din’s chest and smiled.

The Child, conducting the Force through his fingertips, was keeping the fire at bay. Strength of that degree was incredible, let alone the fact it was a young creature wielding it. You watched, wide-eyed and proud as the Child pushed the fire back toward the pyro-trooper. With a blood-curdling scream, the trooper burst into flames and crumpled to the ground. Threat gone, the Child fell back to the ground completely exhausted. 

You crawled over to the creatures’ slumped form and scooped him up in your arms. Careful not to trip or wake the Child, you walked back over to Din. Upon sitting at his side, Din reached up and brushed his fingers along the creatures’ ear. Before you could speak up, Din’s moving hand clutched your arm. He gave it a squeeze, the touch enough to pull your eyes to his helmet’s visor.

“Let me die a warriors death,” he choked out. You felt a burning in your eyes, the threat of unshed tears. Without hesitation, you shook your head.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you replied. As you spoke, the clanging kicks of the IG unit filled your ears. With one final metal crash, the way to escape was open.

“It’s open! We have to go!” Greef shouted and you looked up. He was already filing into the cramped tunnel passage while the rest of you lingered. Even the IG unit waited, red optical receptors trained on the Child. In a flash, you stood and held the Child out to the droid.

“No,” Din coughed, but you ignored him.

“Take him and go, we’ll be right behind you.” Without questioning your order, the droid took the child and followed after Greef. Content with your choice, you turned and face Cara. “Can you go with them?”

“What about him?” Cara tipped her head toward Din. 

“I’ll take care of him.” The shock trooper’s dark brows furrowed together but she stood anyway. Cara gave Din one last, worried glance before walking past you. As she moved, she grabbed your shoulder.

“Don’t let him…”

“I won’t.”

Cara nodded gratefully and you turned to watch her as she followed the droid into the sewer. When the four of them were out of sight, you rushed back over to Din. You crouched down at his side and took his hand in yours. His helmet turned to you and you could feel his life, ever-present in the Force around you, begin to wane. 

“Why are you doing this?”

You ignored the truth that threatened to spill out of your mouth and answered him with another question. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” There was no delay in his reply; no pause or doubt. The trust between you and Din was deep, akin to the trust between you and your late Master only stronger. You gave Din a half-smile and hoped that, beneath his helmet, he made it whole. 

Just as you were about to continue, the cantina entrance became to crumble. The stone ceiling fell in, blocking the doorway to the village outside. If you did manage to patch Din up, the sewer would be the only way out of the ruined building. You turned your attention back to Din and found his free hand reaching out to you. For a moment, you considered pulling away, letting him go out in the Mandalorian way. But your Jedi way would not allow you to leave him behind; that, and your heart, your feelings for him.

“I need you to take off your helmet.”

“It’s forbidden,” Din said, without missing a beat, “no one has seen me since…”

“I won’t see, not really,” you explained, “I’ll have my eyes closed.” 

You could feel Din’s nervousness through the Force but the trust he had in you eventually won out. Slowly, you watched Din’s gloved hands reached up towards his helmet. A quick, thankful smile danced along your features before you closed your eyes. The hiss of the helmet’s release echoed in your ears and you found yourself fighting temptation. You wanted to see him, really see him, but you had made a promise.

Instead, you reached out, let your hands brush against his matted hair. He was sweaty and you could feel him pull away from your touch, only for a moment before relaxing. The weight of his head fell against your hands. It was then you felt the blood, all thick and warm. You took a deep, shuddering breath before channeling all that you could into the wound. 

With the best of your abilities, you tried to replicate what you had seen the Child do with Greef’s wound only a day before. You had only read about Force regeneration in texts hidden deep in the Coruscant Temple’s archive. 

“Y/N.” 

The sound of your name in his voice, now unaltered by the helmet, was nearly enough to get you to open your eyes. How soft his voice sounded, how small. It was as if the mask he wore carried with it everything you thought he was. Now, Din was laying bare before you but you couldn’t see him. It was torturous, not being able to look at him.

Viscerally, it felt like you were being drained. Although that could have been the life Force you were melding into his wounded flesh. Draining a piece of yourself and giving to Din was simple in principle; no more confusing than wedding vows. Physically the act was something else and you understood why the Jedi often guarded against using the Force to heal. 

“Y/N,” you shook your head and tried to refocus, “Y/N, please.”

The instant you were finally getting through, when the wound was just beginning to mend, you felt the rough texture of Din’s glove against your chin, then your cheek. You fought to stay focused. You fought to keep your eyes screwed shut. “Y/N.” Suddenly, you were losing the battle.

“Y/N, let me see your eyes.”

Whether it was the desperation or the pleading nature of Din’s voice, you gave in. Slowly, your eyes opened and you took in the sight before you as if it were your first time seeing anything. You studied Din’s face intensely: the mixture of fear and adoration in his dark eyes; the patchy scruff along his jaw; the curves of his lips; everything. Somewhere, you found more strength, whether it was in Din’s eyes or in your own heart. That strength was enough to channel the Force that whirled around you both and heal Din’s head wound.

The cuts and bruises in his face sealed up and the flesh returned to its natural color. Never once did your eyes leave Din’s. Not even when he took a full, gasping breath. Not even when you felt your energy being drained. You channeled every teaching Stass Allie had taught you. One such teaching from your late Jedi Master came to your mind.

“You can never trust someone without looking into their eyes. Eyes never lie, my padawan, neither a friends’ or a foes’.”

Looking into Din’s eyes, in that moment, you knew you could trust him with anything.

The Force seemed to slip from your fingertips as Din’s wounds healed. You let yourself fall back on the dirt, careful not to get too close to the flames. Heat had grown and spread around you; a frightful reminder that you needed to get out of there.

“We need to go.” You reached for Din’s helmet and handed it to him.

“What did you-”

“We can talk about it later. We need to get to the Child.” At the mention of the little creature, Din grew stoic. His brows furrowed slightly and his lips pursed. You had to swallow the smile that threatened to spread along your lips. To mask it further, you stood up and extended a hand to the downed Mandalorian. 

Without hesitation, he took your hand and got to his feet.

“Why didn’t you have one of those before?” You asked Din as you landed. Even with your feet on the ground, you still clung to Din’s arms. Flight via jetpack was new to you. Although the Child, wedged between you and Din, was still squealing with excitement.

“Not enough beskar,” Din said coolly. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. The Child, fastened in your jacket, began to paw at your chest as if begging to fly again.

“Alright, alright,” you let go of Din’s arms and plucked the Child from your coat.

Its wide, dark eyes were alight with joy despite all the trouble you had just fought through. You smiled at him and set him on the ground. When he started to waddle over towards the Razor Crest, Din punched in his code to lower the boarding ramp. The Child chirped giddly as he wandered into the ship.

“We better watch him,” you scratched the back of your head nervously. “He might try to fly without us.”

You turned to walk towards the ship but felt Din’s hand grasp at your arm. His touch was light, yet desperate, and when you turned to face him, you could feel his questions. Din’s scorched helmet did nothing for you now. You had seen the face and the eyes beneath and there was no turning back. The two of you had trusted the other with your respective secrets; trust went both ways.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The same reason you don’t take off your helmet,” you explained, “it is the way. The new, Jedi way.” Din took a step back from you.

“Jedi?”

“During the Clone Wars, when we all thought the Trade Federation was the worse thing to come to the galaxy, I was a padawan learner…” you swallowed hard at the memory. “I was being taught in the ways of the Force by Jedi Master Stass Allie.”

“You...the Child, you both have the Force.” You nodded and frowned when Din’s hand let go of your arm. “Your powers….”

“The Empire wasn’t a fan of the Jedi,” you sighed, rubbing at your wrist to distract yourself. “Wasn’t really a fan of anyone but themselves. They hunted my people...they...killed my Master and so many others.”

Din didn’t reply and you were too lost in your memories to notice when he took a step towards you. 

“I didn’t tell you cos’...I didn’t want to be alone again.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke. “Everyone I told tried to turn me in for credits and I...you are...were a bounty hunter. I joined the Guild to protect myself and then this Child…”

When Din grabbed your arm against it neither forceful nor mean. It was soft, tender, the kind of touch you seen other receive but never have yourself. You opened your eyes and met the visor of Din’s mask; but you could see his eyes. You could feel them on you and the trust they held in you. Something else had been shared alongside your secrets. 

“You’ll never be alone,” he said softly, “not again. I’m with you.”

You gave Din a grateful smile and rested an open palm on the cool surface of his mask. At your touch, you heard his breath hitch. Fear, you could feel it in the Force around him; fear that you would try to remove his helmet out in the open. Did he regret letting you see his face?

No, he didn’t. You knew him well enough to know that and the Force thrummed in agreement. Din rested the weight of his helmet in your hand. The small action carried with it a bond forged in the fires of the Nevarro cantina. Something immovable; something permanent.

“We better get the kid,” Din said as the sound of the ramp folding up reached your ears. You turned around and lifted a hand to stop it, unafraid of your power. With the Force, you gently pulled the ramp back down and you both started towards the ship in a sprint.

As your ran, you could feel the hilt of your lightsaber knock against your thigh. There would be time to show that to Din too. Right now, the trust, the bond between was enough. And there were bigger, more powerful things at hand. 

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Love is like a tornado...

For the dearest @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​ 💟💟💟

Hope you’ll like the story...

"Man, that sucks..."

"Yeah, the situation is desperate!"

The Weasley twins sigh as they watch two of their favorite teachers glancing at each other but not daring to say a single word.

On one side, there is Professor Remus Lupin, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Compassionate, kind, encouraging, and understanding, he is among the most popular teachers in the school.

On the other side, there is (Y/N) (L/N), the new Charms lecturer. She is not only beautiful but also passionate, supportive, charismatic, and gifted. Every Hogwarts students are keen to attend her courses: even the Slytherins are respectful towards her. 

Besides, she is the youngest member of the professors' staff. 

However, what makes Fred and George Weasley upset is that the two teachers seem fond of each other, but no one tries to make the first step.

"They could be the most popular couple in school!"

"You mean the most popular couple in the history of the school!"

"You got the point, Fred!"

Sitting next to them, Ron, Hermione, and Harry share their opinion.

"They are so cute together! But it would not be fair to force them!" breathes Hermione.

"Hermione is right. Likewise, Remus is not at ease with his lycanthropic condition: I'm sure he is scared to hurt her!" advises Harry.

"Sure. And, moreover, Lupin is so clumsy when it comes to ladies!" grins Ron.

"Watch your words, Little Ronnie! I'm sure you don't want your friends to know about the emptiness of your love life!" sneers George, making his twin laugh.

Grumbling some curses against his "stupid brothers," Ron eats a piece of cake while asking:

"Which subject do we have after lunch?"

"Let me see... Ah, we have a Charms lesson!"

As they hear it, a Cheshire grin appears on the Weasley twins' faces.

"Do you hear that, Georgie?"

"Oh yeah, Freddie, I heard it!"

Under the worried look of their younger brother and his friends, George and Fred prepare their new trick to "help" their beloved teachers...

Later in the afternoon, in Charms classroom.

In her classroom, (Y/N) tries to explain a new spell to her students.

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen: your gesture must be short but firm! Come on, try!"

Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin students try their best to achieve the exercise. Some manage to reach their objective while others struggle.Their professor watches them with a kind smile on her face. She really enjoys teaching at Hogwarts: the pupils are interested and willing to work.

Furthermore, in her class, there is no rivalry between the houses. She encourages solidarity and group works between the students, no matter which house they belong to. 

That's why she appreciates seeing Hermione, one of her favorite students, working with Draco Malfoy without hostility. She even notices that the two seem to get along now, to Ron Weasley's dismay. 

Speaking of the latter, he nearly turns one of his classmates into a chair!

"Watch out, Ron!"

"Sorry, Seamus!"

"Focus on your gesture, Mr. Weasley!" she reminds him kindly.

"Yes, sorry, Mrs. (L/N)!"

The class goes well until the bell rings.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For next time, I want you to practice all the charms on page 214 of your manual! See you on Friday!"

Once the students leave her classroom, she packs her belongings and heads to her office. On the way, she bumps into someone and lets her book falling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not see you..."

"I should be the one apologizing, (Y/N)"

The young woman lifts her head, and she recognizes Remus. For a moment, they cannot help but look at each other with some fascination. Shyly, the werewolf hands to her some of her books.

"Thank you for helping me, Remus!"

"It's my pleasure. I'll be careful next time!"

"Don't be upset about it. It's okay!"

"I... I'm glad to hear that!" whispered the werewolf, slightly blushing.

Unbeknownst to them, the Weasley twins observe them, hidden in a corner.

"By Merlin, it fails! They are this close to kissing, I swear! Ugh, it's soooo frustrating!"

"I told you that the Tumbling spell would not work!"

"Quiet, Fred! Unless you have another idea..."

"Just let me think about it, Georgie... Hooray! I have a plan!"

"What is it?"

Fred picks up his spellbook and points to a segment.

"I think this would help us!"

Looking at the spell, George beams.

"Oh, that's what I call a brilliant idea! The best prank we ever did!"

"You can say it, bro! Now, let's prepare it! We have to do it tomorrow: I hear Ron revising his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for tomorrow! It's our only chance !"

The following day.

Sitting at her office, (Y/N) prepares the lesson for the Year 1 Ravenclaw students. She smiles while thinking about those little wizards and witches who look at her with admirative eyes. They are so cute! 

To be honest, they are cuter when they interact with Remus. She loves to see him being gentle with the younglings and encouraging their efforts. She can say that her colleague would be a wonderful father...

Suddenly, a loud noise wakes her up from her daydream. She looks at her door that shatters because of a tornado.

"By Merlin, what is that?"

As she prepares to cast a spell, the tornado charges at her and imprisons the young witch in its fury. 

Mangled by the tornado, (Y/N) cannot stop it, losing her wand in the process. And carried by the wind, she soon crosses the corridors, under the astonished eyes of the teachers and students.

Meanwhile, in Remus's classroom, the students listen to their teacher.

"As you know, Banshee's main power is her scream. It's so powerful that it can drive her victims mad! It can also lead to their death!"

"How loud it can be?" asked Draco.

"Well, according to Newt Scamander, you can hear her wails from a couple of miles away!"

At the same time, the students jumped on their seats as they hear a piercing shriek.

"BANSHEE! SHE IS HERE!" panicked Neville.

"I assure you, young Mister Longbottom, that it is not a supernatural scream. On the contrary, it is a human scream... It sounds like someone needs help!"

Indeed, someone needs help as they hear a familiar feminine voice.

"PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"OH MY GOD! It's Mrs. (L/N)!" exclaims Harry.

Fearing for the life of his beloved witch, Remus picks his wand and prepares to rescue (Y/N) when the tornado bursts into the classroom.

"STEP BACK! STAY FAR FROM IT!" directs Lupin.

All the students stumble behind their teacher. The werewolf braces himself before he tries to rescue his crush from the roaring wind. 

Unfortunately, the tornado absorbs him as well, before getting outside the classroom.

"We have to help them! Hurry!" declares Parvati before running outside, followed by her classmates.

When they arrive in the main hall, they witness an extraordinary scene: trapped in the tornado, Remus and (Y/N) try to escape this windy pit but fail every time.

"How can we help them?" demands Ron.

"First of all, we must identify which spell was used to create this tornado!"

At the same time, Fred and George topple towards them while repeating:

"A DISASTER! IT'S A DISASTER!"

When he hears his brothers, Ron exclaims:

"What on Earth have you done again?"

"See, little brother, it's a long time story..."

"Cut it out, and tell the truth!" yells Dean.

The twins look at each other with despair before explaining:

"Well, we only wanted to try helping Professor Lupin and Mrs (L/N) confessing to each other..."

"And we thought that if he saves her, she would immediately confess her love! And he would do the same!"

"Oh, by Morgana, why do I have those two dorks as brothers?" whines Ron as he facepalms.

"Okay. But why the tornado?" asks Neville.

"Well, it seems cool!" answers Fred.

"That is not cool AT ALL, you dumbskull!" 

"Only a Weasley can produce such a ridiculous idea!" says Goyle with irony.

"Shut up, Goyle, and be useful for once in your life!" shouts Seamus.

Whereas her classmates panic for their teachers, Hermione muses about the tornado.

"It is not a classic spell... If only I had my Charms book with me!"

Immediately, Draco hands his manual to her.

"You can read mine if you want!"

"Thanks, Draco! Let's see what it is!"

As the two wizards look in the book, Ron nudges Harry.

"Did you just see it?"

"What?"

"Malfoy was nice with Hermione!"

"And? It is not the first time!"

"That is not normal, Harry!"

"For Godric Gryffindor's sake, Ronald! We have other priorities now!"

Quickly, Hermione finds the solution.

"I got it! Oh lord, it's a Confessional Tornado!"

"A what?" asks George.

"According to the book, this spell creates that entangles two people and compels them to tell the truth. It lets them free only if they do so!" explains Malfoy.

"Well, that's a complicated situation!"

Coming closer to the tornado, Draco yells to the teachers.

"Professor Lupin, Mrs. (Y/N), you are in a Confessional Tornado! You must tell the truth, or you won't get out!"

"WHAT?"

"That's true! We checked it! Please, tell the truth!"

"The truth? About what?" asks Remus.

Sighing, the Slytherin shouts:

"Sir, tell her everything. Say how much she means to you... Just say what you are truly feeling about her!"

Slightly biting his lip, the young man carries on:

"You are a brave man, Mister Lupin. You can tell her the truth... so perhaps, it would help me to confess to the girl I love what I've dreamed of saying to her! How incredible, smart, lovely, and beautiful she is to me!"

"Who is he talking about?" asks Hermione.

"I don't know... but I pity for her!" sneers Ron.

Gathering his courage, Remus looks at (Y/N) and manages to say through the storm:

"Draco is right (Y/N). I should have told you the truth a long time ago..."

"What?"

"You are the most amazing witch I've ever met. Since the first day, I knew that... I fell in love with you."

Saying that (Y/N) is shocked is an understatement. All this time, she hoped to hear Remus saying those words... 

"Why?" she mutters.

"There are so many reasons why I love you, but I would waste your time. The main thing I would say is... If it takes me all this time to confess, it's because I'm scared... of me! You're aware of my second nature, and I would not be able to forgive myself if I hurt you!"

She smiles.

"Do you think I would turn around and walk away because of that? Remus, your lycanthropy is a part of you. But does it makes you a monster? No. You try your best to protect those around you from this curse. Every day, I see you with our colleagues or students. I only see a kind, compassionate, encouraging, brave, protective, and wise man who never gives up on someone else. This is the man I fell in love with since our first meeting. This is the man I want to spend my life with... If you would give me this chance!"

Suddenly, he takes her small hand and holds it tenderly.

"You don't have to ask: you are already in my existence!"

Moved by this answer, (Y/N) brightly smiles before she cups his face between her hands and kisses him. Taken aback by this sudden gesture, the man kisses her back under the cheers of the students and teachers.

"See, Minerva, he found the courage!" says Dumbledore, chuckling.

"They must be so relieved!" smiles McGonagall.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins let out a sigh of relief.

"At least, it was not as disastrous as I thought!"

"Yeah. Mission accomplished, bro... And I can say that it helps someone else!"

They both look at Drago and Hermione, who are holding hands and speaking softly. 

"Man, I think we have created another power couple in Hogwarts!"

"Should we tell Ron about this?"

They look at each other with a mischievous smile.

"NAH! NOT NOW!" they laugh.

"Instead, let's enjoy our success!"

At the same moment, Remus and (Y/N) are enjoying the moment as they start a new step in their lives. A new life together. And to think that all begins when two prankish brothers start a tornado... After all, love is like a tornado: it arrives unexpectedly and sweeps you off your feet...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it! 💜💜💜💜💜💜

[jedimasterbailey]

A sneak preview of the next chapter of my fic “The Padawans” in which Vader thinks of Ahsoka and Luminara as he plans his fated rematch with Barriss. Includes a flashback to a conversation between Anakin and Luminara post “Brain Invaders” that we should have seen! Link to the fic below, enjoy and thank you for the support 💚💙❤️

Darth Vader stares out to the busy metropolis of Coruscant from his personal quarters in the Imperial Palace, lost in thought. Behind the bulbous black eyes that served as the Sith Lord’s window to the world were tired blue ones still hoping to catch a glimpse of the former residence of Padme Amidala, the deceased wife of Anakin Skywalker. It was moments like this where the former Jedi Knight missed the Senator deeply. For Vader was about to encounter another ghost from his past, Anakin’s past. Soon Vader will be face to face with Luminara Unduli in the very place she used to call home, a home he destroyed.

In the months after the rise of the Empire, Palpatine had the Jedi Temple renovated into his own personal palace. Although the bodies of the dead Jedi have been long excavated and the relics of the Jedi long destroyed, echoes of the past were everywhere. Vader could still see the destruction he caused and he could still hear the terrified screams of the younglings and Knights that were at his mercy. No amount of refurbishment could ever erase what he had done. It was because of this that Vader avoided the palace as much as he could. The Sith apprentice despised being in the place Anakin Skywalker and his Jedi family once resided in. However, if being here resulted in the reappearance of Barriss Offee, then Vader will do what must be done.

The plan was simple. Luminara will be the bait and once Barriss was right where the Dark Lord needed her, Luminara would be disposed of. Vader wanted the Mirialan to feel the same scorching pain he felt on Mustafar when Obi-wan left him for dead. If he couldn’t have his Master’s love, neither could she.

Victory was inevitable. Anakin may have been weak, but if Barriss couldn’t defeat him, then she didn’t stand a chance against Vader, especially with a broken heart. Vader will prove Sidious wrong; that the girl is unworthy of the title of Darth or worth the attention of Ahsoka Tano.

Yet despite his quest for vengeance, Vader was admittedly nervous to see Luminara again. For months he has avoided contact, leaving the Grand Inquisitor to handle the matter. Seeing the woman Anakin viewed as a mother figure beaten and bruised by his own henchman was the last thing Vader wanted to do. It was no different than the Sith avoiding Padme’s tomb on Naboo; he could not face what he has done. As hard as the Emperor had tried to snuff it out, Anakin’s spirit was still trapped inside the machine that was his body. Vader was going to have to kill the one person he knew was Luminara’s whole heart and the Anakin part of him hated him for it.

The cyborg then walks over to a bedside table, the very table Anakin used to hold such possessions, and opens the drawer that contained the last pieces of his Jedi past he refused to part with. In one hand he held one of Ahsoka’s lightsabers and in the other, her Padawan beads.

Vader did not believe for a moment that his former apprentice was gone. Ahsoka had managed to survive situations that would have killed more experienced Jedi. He had taught her how to outsmart the enemy and how to defy seemingly impossible odds. The lightsaber had merely been a decoy and the presence of Morai was confirmation. Somewhere out there, Ahsoka Tano was alive and one day, they would meet again. Vader was sure of it.

“Forgive me, for what I’m about to do.” Vader says to the items in his hands. He didn’t know who exactly he was talking to; Ahsoka or Luminara. Regardless, the Dark Lord thinks back to a time where both women were safe and within arms reach.

Feeling ecstatic that Ahsoka has woken up from her healing trance after her encounter with the Geonosian parasites, Anakin takes it upon himself to find food for his Padawan. Just before the mess hall was a small lounge where visitors could sit and wait while the healers worked on patients. Having been up for several hours on end between their mission on Geonosis and waiting for Ahsoka to wake up, Anakin wanted to grab a cup a caf before waiting in line for food. Upon entering the quiet room, the Jedi Knight was baffled to see a very miserable Luminara Unduli staring into her own beverage.

The Mirialan’s hands were shaking and her eyes were red and puffy, presumably from crying. Never in all his years of knowing the Jedi Master has Anakin seen her look so broken. He takes a seat beside Luminara and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Master?”

Luminara raises her head up to meet the young man’s gaze, fresh tears streaming down her face, “Is Ahsoka alright?”

Anakin nods, “She just woke up. Physically, she’s on the mend, it’s her mind I’m worried about. Our Padawans have been through a lot, more than I’d like to think about.”

“Yes... our girls deserve so much more.” Luminara sighs, grabbing tissue to dry her eyes.

“Barriss is going to come through too, she’s strong and resilient like her Master.” Anakin says gently, earning a watery laugh from the woman.

“I’m not sure about that Skywalker... I’ve failed as a Master.” Luminara professes sadly.

Anakin would hear none of it, “Now hold on a second, you have not failed Barriss. None of this is your fault!”

Luminara shakes her head, “I’ve almost lost her twice within a day. It’s my job to protect her and I’ve failed. According to Master Fisto, Barriss’s head scans indicate that she may have suffered some head trauma between the worm and the extreme cold. First, she almost suffocates after blowing up a whole factory with herself still in it only to then get infected by a parasite hours later! Who knows how she’ll be when she wakes up!”

“Perhaps you were right all along. Maybe I should have accompanied Barriss inside the catacombs instead of endangering your student. Maybe I should have gone with the girls on that supply run. There were plenty of Jedi to interagate Poggle and Ahsoka would have been safer in your care. I’ve been a fool! I’m so sorry Anakin and I owe Ahsoka an apology too!”

Anakin then wraps an arm around the woman and pulls her close, “You're being way too hard on yourself, Luminara. You’re forgetting that there were a lot of factors that were beyond our control. Your plan on Geonosis was good! We probably would’ve been successful without it because Force knows I don’t think things through, I’m glad someone was doing the thinking!

“The assignment given to the Padawans was more than reasonable. I’m sure Ahsoka was thrilled to see Barriss’s photographic memory at work and I really do need to work on trusting her. You weren’t planning on those slimy bugs getting in the way nor were you counting on one of those nasty worms infecting the troops on that shuttle. I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but I think you should give yourself some grace!”

“If you’ve failed as a Master for things not according to plan, then I am a huge failure as well as Obi-wan and probably every other Jedi Master that’s ever lived. You saw how well his plan went when he thought he could talk sense into the Queen of bugs. You were just seconds away from being possessed!” Anakin argues, rolling his eyes at the memory of Obi-wan’s curiosity.

“Rest assured, I’ll be giving him plenty of grief for that!” Luminara smiles, her face brightening up a little, “But thank you Anakin... your kindness never fails to amaze me.”

“Let me know when you do because I’d love to see that. All things considered, he deserves a good beating.” Anakin winks with a playful nudge before getting serious again. “Did you want to see Barriss? I was going to grab something to eat for Ahsoka, but if you need the company, I’d walk with you.”

Luminara nods, “Yes, I wanted to give you and Ahsoka some time alone especially since it may be a while before Barriss wakes up given her injuries.”

Anakin beams at the Jedi Master. For as long as he’s known Luminara, she has always been considerate and gentle with his needs.

“I appreciate that, Master.”

“Can I ask you something?” Luminara says with a far off look on her face.

“Anything.”

“Did you really believe that I gave up on Barriss when the factory went down?” Luminara asks calmly, but Anakin could tell from her breathing that it was a facade.

“No.” Anakin admits allowing Luminara to exhale a sigh of relief, “I allowed my fear to get the better of me and I took it out on you. You were trying to console me and even when I didn’t deserve it, you never got upset with me. You were hurting just as much as I was and I was selfish. I know better than that! Of course you care about Barriss! I owe you an apology Master, I’m sorry.”

Luminara begins to cry again startling the Jedi Knight, “Did I say something wrong?”

Luminara shakes her head.

“No! I’m just so relieved!” Luminara sobs, putting her face in her hands.

“Oh, good! I’m sure Obi-wan would kill me if I upset you.” Anakin chuckles, rising to offer a hand to Luminara.

“Walk with me back to the girl’s room? I gotta stop and get Snips some food, but I’m sure she’d love your company. And who knows? Maybe Barriss will wake up! I’m sure your face is the first one she’d want to see.”

With a smile as bright as the twin suns of Tatooine, Luminara graciously accepts Anakin’s hand, “I’d love to.”

Gingerly placing the lightsaber and beads back where he found them, Vader turns to leave the room, sensing the Grand Inquisitor’s presence as well as a weakened Luminara. For the sake of his sanity, the Dark Lord prayed his true identity stayed a secret with the prisoner.

[starbornvalkyrie]

acotar one sentence summary

T-minus four months until the A Court of Silver Flame release! In preparation for this long-awaited book, I will be posting one-sentence-per-chapter summaries of ACOTAR, ACOMAF, ACOWAR, and ACOFAS on the 16th of each month.

Also, if you haven’t seen SJM’s sneak peek, you can find it on insta or on this meme by @illyrianwitchling. it’s a mood. and i am deceased.

**Spoiler Warning** This is NOT a blurb or a review. I literally summarized each chapter in one sentence. Yes, they are some of the longest run-on sentences I have ever written and would definitely be flagged by every English teacher ever. And yes, I definitely over-used the semicolon, conjunctions, lists, and pretty much most syntax in the English language. But no, I did not care if the sentences were better split into two or more. It was more fun this way, and easier to keep track of.

Absolutely everything about this belongs to the queen, Sarah J. Maas.

Without further ado, if you lack the time to read everything again, have no fear! Just keep reading below the cut, and enjoy! [The numbers at the beginning of the paragraphs indicate the chapter numbers if you want to skip to certain parts!]

Final Word Count: 2863

[ 1 ] It’s winter and snowing; Feyre is hunting for food when a wolf--that may or may not be a faerie--kills a deer, but she kills the wolf with an ash arrow, skins it, and takes the pelt and the deer home. When Feyre gets home, her father and older sisters--Nesta and Elain--eat the deer, then Feyre and Nesta argue over pretty much everything, especially Nesta’s imminent engagement to Tomas Mandray. The next day, Feyre sold the wolf pelt and deer hide to a mercenary who warned her about faeries crossing the wall while Nesta and Elain were harassed by the Children of the Blessed--people who worship faeries like gods; their dinner that night was interrupted by a roar.

[ 4 ] A faerie in beast-form demands retribution for his wolf friend who was murdered--a life for a life--so Feyre opts to go with the faerie to live out the rest of her days in Prythian, the faerie realm. Feyre and the beast-faerie travel north on horseback, but Feyre doesn’t remember most of it because the male used magic to render her unconscious until they reached Prythian.

[ 6 ] When they reach the beast’s estate, he shifts back into his Fae form, Feyre meets Lucien--an emissary--and she notices that everyone is wearing a mask; Alis--a servant--takes Feyre to a lavish room where she bathed, groomed, clothed, and warned her to talk less, smile more, and listen. She finally dines with Lucien and the beast-fae--whose name is Tamlin--and decides both of them are assholes; the next day she wanders the estate and admires beautiful paintings until Tamlin finds her and tells are about the blight that has plagued Prythian, which also explains why everyone is stuck in a mask. When Feyre was wandering through the gardens, she heard giggling and felt someone watching her but only noticed a silver shimmer; at dinner it seemed like Lucien and Tamlin were trying to get to know her better, and she told them her mother died of Typhus when she was eight.

[ 9 ] In an attempt to get Lucien to talk to Tamlin about freeing her, Feyre went with him on his patrol of the border, but her attempts were futile, and, instead, he let slip that there was a her related to the magic that forced them to keep their masks on; they kept up their banter until Lucien warned her to do nothing but look straight ahead when Feyre felt it. A cold presence overtook them as the Bogge appeared, and after it left, Lucien explained that once one acknowledges the Bogge, it can kill you; Lucien told Tamlin about it when they got back which urged Tamlin went to go hunt for it, and when Feyre was looking out the window waiting for him to return, she saw her father in the garden.

[ 11 ] Before she could get far, Tamlin finds her and makes her realize that it wasn’t her father, but a puca, and warned her that the wards between territories have weakened and everything has changed; Tamlin hunts the Bogge day and night without help after he tells Feyre that her family is fed and comfortable, while Feyre has nightmares about killing Andras. 

[ 12 ] Though she is illiterate, Feyre walked the halls of the estate trying to make a map until Tamlin returned, injured, from killing the Bogge, so she went to the infirmary to help his wound; Feyre overheard a conversation about Tamlin “running out of time” and Lucien forced Tamlin to spend time with Feyre, leading Feyre to admit she does not like hunting, so Tamlin brought her to the study. 

[ 13 ] In the study, Feyre tried to teach herself to read so that she may send a letter to her family, but on a break, she discovered a mural depicting the story of Prythian--along with the seven courts; after fighting with Tamlin about denying his help in writing the letter, Feyre went to Lucien to ask how to catch a Suriel. In her success with trapping the Suriel, Feyre discovers that Tamlin is the High Lord of the Spring Court, learns about the King of Hybern, is warned to Stay with the High Lord, and is about to learn about one of a disobedient commander from Hybern called The Deceiver, when four naga--terrifying faeries made of shadow and rot--found them in the clearing. Feyre freed the Suriel, killed one naga, ran away, killed a second naga with her knife when it grabbed her, was saved by Tamlin who killed the last two, and was healed by him as well--they shared a moment. 

[ 16 ] After Feyre cleaned up from the attack, she met Lucien and Tamlin for dinner where they told her that faeries can indeed lie and are unharmed by iron and that Feyre’s family know she’s okay and know to run at the first sign of something amiss due to a threat in Prythian; Feyre is so grateful, she opens up to Tamlin a little more and asks for paint which he responds to by offering to show her the gallery--sparks are beginning to fly.

[ 17 ] Feyre woke from a nightmare only to hear shouting from Tamlin as he carried a faerie with his wings cut off, and when Tamlin realized there was no way to save him, Feyre held the faerie’s hand until he died and a little while after that; when Tamlin walked Feyre back upstairs, she expressed her regret and sorrow for killing his friend.

[ 18 ] The next day, Tamlin and Lucien took Feyre to a beautiful landscape where Tamlin showed Feyre a pool of starlight and revealed a bit of Lucien’s background--he is the youngest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court--and as the swam in starlight, Feyre told Tamlin about her father’s demise and her years in the woods; on the ride back to the manor, Lucien told Feyre he was sorry that he hesitated when he heard her scream from the naga attack and gifted her his jeweled hunting knife.

[ 19 ] When Feyre’s painting supplies arrived, Tamlin showed her the gallery, and she began to paint and paint for weeks and weeks until one day, they shared a moment in the gardens; Tamlin told Feyre about his parents, how he became High Lord when his entire family was killed, and was in the middle of explaining Calanmai--Fire Night--when the Attor, invisible to Feyre, came to confront Tamlin about how much time he has left and to not break his terms with her.

[ 20 ] The day of Calanmai arrived, and Tamlin ordered Feyre to lock herself in her room until morning, so she did--until she didn’t; Feyre followed the drums to find some sort of firelit party filled with High Fae, and when three of them tried to lure her away, the “most beautiful man she’d ever seen” saved her from them. Feyre thanked the stranger then walked away and found Lucien who angrily brought her back to the manor as he explained that magic is going to take over Tamlin and force him to mate with a random female for the good of the land; when the Great Rite is over, Tamlin finds Feyre and expresses how badly he wanted it to be her instead--shows it by biting her neck.

[ 21 ] Feyre and Tamlin tease each other about the night before and apologize for their behaviors at lunch the next day, and for dinner, Feyre asks Alis to dress her up in a gown rather than the tunic she usually wears; Feyre brought Tamlin to the room she’s been painting in, showing him a painting she did of the pool of starlight, as well as various images of her life in the mortal lands, and Tamlin chooses to keep the painting of the woods she used to hunt in. The next day, Feyre and Tamlin were in the enchanted forest where he granted her fae senses that allow her to truly experience Prythian--they have another moment.

[ 23 ] When Feyre wakes up, she finds Alis in her natural form and is able to see all of the fae who were hidden from her initially; she went to go paint in the garden but is startled by a head spiked to the top of the fountain, and Tamlin and Lucien claimed it was the High Lord of the Night Court’s idea of a cruel joke.

[ 24 ] The Summer Solstice came, and although the blight seems to be getting more intense, the denizens of the Spring Court partied; they danced, drank wine, Tamlin played the fiddle, then he took her to a meadow and kissed her and watched the sunrise. Despite the great night they had, Lucien informed them the next day that the blight took out two dozen Winter Court younglings, then a silence came over them, and Tamlin ordered Lucien to glamour Feyre to hide her from the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand; Feyre listened as he taunted Tamlin and Lucien, learning about a woman named Amarantha until Rhysand discovers she’s there and seizes control of her mind until she told him her name is Clare Beddor.

[ 26 ] The encounter with Rhysand scared Tamlin so badly, he told Feyre that he was sending her back to the mortal realm; as a send-off, they made love until the morning, and before she drifted to sleep, Tamlin expressed that he loved her, thorns and all. Alis dressed Feyre in wealthy human clothing, Lucien pleaded with Tamlin to let her stay, but Tamlin sent her off with an “I love you” and a promise that he will see her again; when she arrives at her family’s new estate, Elain tells her how they got their fortune back excitedly, while Nesta was a more wary of her return.

[ 28 ] Elain shows Feyre her garden, prattling on about the social season and how Nesta tried to visit Feyre only to have her carriage break down and have to return; Feyre’s father finished counting the gold and jewels that Tamlin sent with Feyre, so she went to the cottage her family used to live in and found the path she took into the forest, longing for Tamlin to call her back to Prythian. Feyre handed out gold and silver coins to villagers, sneered at Tomas Mandray who was talking about a house that burned down with the whole family in it, and wished the best to Isaac and his new wife; back at the estate, Nesta told Feyre that Tamlin’s glamour didn’t work on her and how she tried to cross the wall but couldn’t find a way through, so Feyre told her the story of her time in Prythian, then Nesta asked her to teach her how to paint.

[ 30 ] After the ball Feyre’s father threw in her honor, she finds out that Clare Beddor’s family’s home was burned down and no one survived, so she tells Nesta and Elain to prepare for anything amiss coming from Prythian--she had to go back; it took her days, but Feyre finally found her way through the wall and to the Spring Court, only to find the manor wrecked, Tamlin nowhere to be found. Feyre finds Alis packing to flee the Spring Court, and she tells her the story of Amarantha, Jurian, and Clythia, and about the curse she put on Tamlin and his court for forty-nine years; Feyre finds out all she needed to do was tell Tamlin that she loves him, but it’s too late for that, so she asks Alis how to get Under the Mountain.

[ 32 ] Alis took Feyre all the way to a cave entrance that will take her Under the Mountain, and as Feyre snuck through the cave and tried to figure out where to go, the Attor found her. The Attor took Feyre to Amarantha’s throne room where she saw Tamlin seated next to her and found out they tortured Clare Beddor until she died; Amarantha made a deal with Feyre where she is to complete three trials on the full moon or solve a riddle to break Tamlin’s curse--or die--and then the Attor beat her. 

[ 34 ] Feyre woke in a dungeon with a broken nose and various injuries and waited until Lucien came and healed her a bit while also confirming that Amarantha keeps a hold of Jurian’s’ eye and finger bone; at some point, she is brought before Amarantha again, and the High Queen used Rhysand to trap Lucien’s mind until Feyre gave up her name, then Amarantha gave her the riddle that would free everyone immediately if she answers correctly.

[ 35 ] The first full moon and Feyre’s first trial came: she had to hunt the Middengard Wyrm in a labyrinth of mud, so Feyre set a trap made of bones in its lair and covered herself with the mud to make herself invisible to the blind worm; her plan worked, though she impaled her arm on bone, and when she was faced with Amarantha, she threw a bone in her direction before Amarantha told her only one person bet she would win--it was Rhysand.

[ 36 ] Feyre waited in pain for days until her fever spiked and Rhysand came to her cell to heal her, but at a cost; in return for healing her, Feyre is to spend one week a month in the Night Court with Rhysand after they were freed from Under the Mountain, and since it is apparently custom in his court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh, Feyre received a tattoo of dark blue designs on her left hand to her elbow.

[ 37 ] Between trials, the guards instructed Feyre to clean the floor of the hallway or else they will turn her over a fire, but they gave her dirty water that only made the floor dirtier, so she was about to give up when Lucien’s mother came and made the water clean in exchange for Feyre saving Lucien’s life; their next chore was to dig lentils from the ashes in Rhysand’s room, but he used magic again to help her, then used his powers to convince the guards to keep their hands off her and to stop giving her household chores.

[ 38 ] Every night until her next task, Feyre was bathed, painted, and dressed to become Rhysand’s plaything for evening festivities, but he always forced her to drink the wine so that she would not remember--though the paint on her body revealed that Rhysand never touched her anywhere but modest places; Amarantha caught a summer lordling trying to escape, so she used Rhysand to discover why, and, for whatever reason, he lied and said he was alone and gave the faerie a swift death, rather than shattering his mind like Amarantha asked.

[ 39 ] Feyre’s second task came: she had to solve a riddle to pull a lever or else she and Lucien would be crushed by a heated platform of spikes--but Feyre can’t read, so when she went for the wrong lever, pain from Rhysand flared in her hand until she hovered over the correct one; Rhysand--in her mind--instructed her back to her cell with dignity, where she wept until he came to visit her and licked her tears away--effectively keeping her from shattering completely.

[ 40 ] Again, Feyre spent every night after that as Rhysand’s plaything, until there was one night that they overheard the Attor and some other creature talking about the King of Hybern’s disappointment in Amarantha; Feyre almost broke after that until beautiful music entered her cell and took her away, if even for a moment.

[ 41 ] During the last party before her final trial, Feyre and Tamlin finally got a moment to sneak off together, but Rhysand found them and kissed Feyre until Amarantha saw to disguise the paint Tamlin ruined; later, Rhys went to Feyre’s cell and confided in her how unhappy and tired of Amarantha’s games he is, and she finds out he is targeted because it was Rhysand’s father who killed Tamlin’s family.

[ 42 ] Feyre’s final task is to stab three innocent faeries in the heart with an ash dagger, and though the first two kills were easy, something broke inside of her, and then shattered when she beheld Tamlin as the third faerie; Alis had told Feyre to listen, and from that, Feyre remembered that Tamlin’s heart is made of stone, therefore she could not kill him, so she said “I love you” and then stabbed him.

[ 43 ] Amarantha did not free everyone right away, but began to beat Feyre--and also Rhysand when he made moves to help her--trying to force her to say she doesn’t really love Tamlin, but Feyre figured out the answer to her riddle--love--and then Amarantha snapped her neck. Feyre watched from Rhysand’s mind as Lucien and the Spring Court removed their masks before Tamlin’s beast killed Amarantha; each of the Seven High Lords of Prythian came forward to sprinkle a kernel of their powers onto Feyre’s body in exchange for what she did for them--for freeing them.

[ 45 ] The High Lords made Feyre into a High Fae to bring her back to life, and then held meetings to discuss how to move on; before they left, Feyre was pulled to Rhysand so that he could say good-bye, but something startled him into leaving abruptly, so Feyre went back to Tamlin, and Amarantha’s Court was destroyed.

They went home.

To the Spring Court.

---

I wasn’t sure if I should add my tag list to this... but i did anyways. let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in these summaries lol. or send me an ask if you do lol

@maddymelv || @lucy617 || @tillyrubes10 || @faerie-queen-fireheart || @tottenhamboys20 || @the-third-me || @superspiritfestival || @rolltide7 || @courtofjurdan || @sleeping-and-books || @aelinchocolatelover || @julemmaes || @sorrehnotsorryy || @courtofjurdan || @acourtofaelinbryceandfeyre || @darlinminds || @lucieisabooknerd || @queen-of-glass || @jlinez || @abookishfreak || @stardelia || @ladywitchling || @rockgirl321 || @sjmships || @thewayshedreamed || @mamakramer || @meowsekai || @illyrianwitchling || @sanakapoor || @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[generallynerdy]

Maybe it does all add up to a single hush (Kanan Jarrus/Cal Kestis)

Summary: 15 years after the Fall, 10 years after the death of Caleb Dume, Kanan Jarrus and Cal Kestis find each other again.

Warnings: Jedi: Fallen Order Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, cursing, brief suicidal ideation/thoughts Word Count: 5,143

Author’s Note: the effort I had to put in not to make this another series...I had to stage an intervention for myself. Anyway, I love Cal and Kanan’s dynamic, whether as partners or as friends, and an Idea struck me that wouldn’t leave. Also, idk how old most people think Cal was when the war ended based on JFO clips, but I always just kind of went with him being the same age as Kanan at the end of the war bc I love them and I need them to know each other. The title is from the poem “So They Say— They Finally Nailed— The Proton’s Size— & Hope— Dies—” by Rosebud Ben-Oni.

Read On AO3

*

When the hard part is over, Cal returns to Bracca, his new lightsaber tucked under Cere’s old robe that still smells like the Temple, with the intention of burning Prauf’s body.

Caleb still had his own robe. He kept it in the deepest part of their shared closet, bringing it out only on the worst days. If Prauf saw it, he never mentioned it, and both boys were grateful for it. There was a lot he didn’t mention.

Cal thinks, sometimes, that Prauf knew who they were before. After all, it’s hard to look at two abandoned kids in the wake of the Clone Wars that can survive being riggers and not think of the thousands of Jedi younglings that died on Empire Day. It’s even harder to ignore two lightsabers and one ratty, brown robe.

Maybe Prauf wasn’t sure.

But he had to be, on that last day, when they found that fighter. When Cal caught him with the Force. He knew then, maybe before. But he still took care of them.

Maybe he knew when the Empire showed up, when Caleb heard the roar of a TIE Fighter and looked instantly to the redheaded boy beside him like he was about to die before his eyes. Maybe that was the moment he put it all together. Or was it his last moment? When the world began to go dark and both Cal and Caleb lashed out in fury at his killers with matching, bright blue blades—did he know? Did he know that he died for the children of an already dying Order?

Standing over the bonfire, Cal holds the Holocron in shaky hands.

Did Prauf know his sacrifice would save the life of every child just like them?

Cal moves away from the flames to the gap in the ground that they’d held Caleb over, his calloused hands clawing at the Ninth Sister, who clutched his throat.

Deep in Cal’s heart, he knows half the reason he beat her was for his best friend. He’d almost given in to rage but stopped himself at the memory of him. Revenge is not the way of the Jedi. But justice is. And so is survival, these days.

Caleb’s lightsaber fell long before he did. When he did fall, he went screaming bloody murder, the noise echoing in the silence that rang in Cal’s ears.

Standing at the edge now, Cal almost considers simply...stepping off.

He can survive it. He has before. And what’s to say that Caleb isn’t waiting at the bottom?

Caleb...used to like animals, he remembers. He preferred them to plants, which are unreadable if you don’t have practise with them. Animals, like people, are complex but tell you in simple terms what they want and what they don’t want. Cal has always been better with plants. They’re simple, grounding, natural. Caleb used to tease him for it.

The only plant he ever managed to grow on this place was a seedling in a boot filled with dirt he kept in their room. It had been making good progress in their last weeks, enough that he’d actually felt some semblance of hope.

And then...and then he’d lost everything. Again.

The Holocron burns in his hand, reminding him that there is more in store for him than an endless chasm. Hundreds of thousands of Force-sensitive children are depending on him now, him and the Mantis crew.

Cal lets out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispers to the wind. “But maybe I can save them.”

On the way back to the Mantis, he turns around to go find the robe and the plant in its boot. The robe smells like blaster fire and the plant is wilting but both are comforting: one because it’s familiar and the other because it’s not quite gone yet.

*

Kanan changes his name.

It doesn’t feel right, hearing his given name from anyone that isn’t Cal or Prauf. The first and only time it happens, nausea sinks in and he quickly makes the change.

Some days, he wants to go back to Bracca. Some part of him still hopes Cal survived the Inquisitors, that he’s waiting for him back at what used to be home, but the logical part of him knows that he’s not. Kanan surviving was a miracle, a fluke, and those don’t happen twice. Sometimes he wishes it had never happened at all.

He managed to save his lightsaber, as broken to bits as it was. It and the necklace Cal gave him are all he has now.

Kanan doesn’t let himself grieve, as much as he knows he needs to. He hardly did it before, on Bracca, but now he won’t allow even a tear. Surviving is the only thing on his mind, though for what he doesn’t know.

When he almost loses that little piece of metal on a string, though, he breaks down sobbing.

It’s the stupidest thing, really. All those lessons on attachment are lost on him now, as he cries over the rusted symbol of the Jedi Order on a piece of scrap metal that Cal had put on a cord for him. He keeps it close to his heart, hanging off his neck every hour of every day if he can help it, and getting that close to losing it is the last straw.

He knows now, why he’s surviving. Because Cal would want him to.

Meeting Hera is a relief. She’s kind but curious, which is more of a bane than it should be.

(Painfully, he’s reminded of himself as a youngling. His Master always said his frequent questions were what drew her to him.)

She’s the first to know about his past, both as a Jedi and a rigger on Bracca. He doesn’t think to mention Caleb, doesn’t think it would matter to anyone, not until after a mission gone bad.

Hera is putting bacta on his wounds and graciously ignoring his constant wincing when she sees it.

She points to the cord after examining what hangs on it for a minute. “For someone who’s trying to be discreet, you wear a lot of Jedi stuff.”

Kanan snorts. “Yeah, well, I won’t get rid of this one.”

“It’s important to you,” she points out. “Can I ask why?”

He hesitates, swallowing roughly. “My best friend gave it to me...on Bracca, befo-before the Inquisitors caught up to us,” he admits. “He didn’t make it.”

Her eyes are full of empathy, something she never lacks. “What was his name?”

“Cal,” he says, voice quiet. “Cal Kestis.”

“If you remember his name,” she promises, “he’ll always be with you.”

It’s not so much a Twi’lek belief as it is her own but it reminds Kanan of Grey more than anyone else. His buir. The clones subscribed to many Mandalorian beliefs, including the echoing of remembrances for the dead. Before the abrupt end of the war, little Caleb used to say his every morning with his Master and buir.

So, he decides to start again. It’s difficult, at first, to even get through the first names, his oldest names.

“Depa Billaba,” he says through tears in the quiet of pre-dawn, “Grey, Styles, Prauf...”

He stops.

It’s hard to think, even harder to say, but he knows he needs to. He needs to tell himself the truth, needs to accept the truth.

“Cal—”

He sobs, shaky and painful. His throat burns just like it did when he fell down the chasm on Bracca, screaming his head off, part out of fear for himself but mostly for fear of what was happening to Cal above him. It hurts to speak it into the world, into the Force and those marching on. Cal is among them now, he knows. He just...has to admit it.

“Cal Kestis,” he finally says, the admission wobbly and half-hearted.

He never loses the necklace again.

*

They’ve finally settled on Bogano, after wiping every trace of it from Imperial data servers. The Holocron is safely locked away in the Vault, guarded by their crew and the Binog, fondly called ‘the big guy,’ mostly by fault of Greez.

Though mostly self-sufficient, occasionally some of them will leave the planet for supplies they can’t make themselves. While off on supply runs, well, they can’t help it if some Imperials just look like easy pickings. Apparently, slavers get the same treatment because Merrin ends up a figure in some sort of oral tradition of a Tatooine family, which Cal finds hilarious. Cere is not so amused and grounds them—literally, in that they can’t leave Bogano—for over a month.

Cal spends most of it repairing old platforms and ziplines, not to mention entertaining the Boglings.

They’re fond of him, for some reason, and BD-1, who loves to run around with them while Cal works. One in particular, named Rabid by Merrin after she stole her entire plate of food, is especially loveable.

Cal snickers as he pulls Rabid off his shoulder. “I have to finish this, then I can play.”

Rabid is not pleased with his answer, nibbling at his trousers.

“Rabid,” he chides, ignoring her in favour of his work. He laughs again. “I used to know somebody who would’ve loved you, annoying as you are.”

BD, who has taken Rabid’s place, beeps curiously.

Cal’s face falls a little. He pauses in his work. “Oh. I guess I’ve never told you about Caleb, huh?”

The little droid shakes his head.

Cal never intended to talk about Caleb to anyone, really, but it all comes pouring out. He tells BD and Rabid all about his old best friend, his confidant. The story is a long one, reaching from the creche all the way to Bracca and its bitter end. By the time he’s finished, his voice is quiet and hesitant, his grief echoing through.

Rabid curls up in his lap, nudging his hand, while BD sits in front of them, tilting his head.

A little light on the side of his scope says that he’s recording. He does that a lot, Cal knows, for prosperity, just like he was programmed to. Cal doesn’t mind, really.

When he finishes, BD gets his attention by chirping.

“Huh? You have something to show me?”

BD’s projector whirrs to life and a blue image appears. It’s Cordova, again, but not a video this time. It’s only a holo, of him and another Jedi—Master Jocasta Nu, Cal realises. Master Cordova is dead asleep on her shoulder and she’s leaned over to kiss his brow.

“Oh,” Cal breathes out, something jarring in his chest.

BD-1 thinks that he and Caleb were—well, were like that.

“I—” he pauses. “I dunno, buddy. I never asked him if...but I think…”

Well. It’d be a stretch to say Cal loved him, but he certainly cared for him more than he ever did anyone else. When they were thirteen and stupid, he might’ve said he had a crush on him. After the Fall, on Bracca, he just...didn't think of it. Caleb was all he had and he clung but he never...thought about what it was, thought about what they were.

It hurts to think of now, all that he missed.

“I don’t know if I did,” Cal tells BD quietly. “But I think I- I think I could have.”

BD asks about Caleb a lot, after that. Maybe he can tell that talking about him makes Cal happy. The others know about the one he lost but they don’t ask. They all have their demons and Cal’s are just...just too great to pile on another person. BD, though, is a little easier. All he wants is to see Cal smile again.

*

“What’s this?”

Kanan doesn’t think to look up at whatever Ezra—the newest addition to the Ghost crew—has swiped from him, until he notices a weight missing from his neck. His head snaps up to where a cord hangs from Ezra’s hand.

“Give that back,” Kanan growls, not meaning to be so aggressive.

Ezra’s eyes widen. He holds it out immediately, dropping it into Kanan’s open hand. “Sorry,” he mutters, watching curiously as Kanan puts it back on.

Almost by instinct, Kanan tucks the piece of scrap metal back under his shirt and breathes out a sigh of relief. He goes back to his datapad. Then, a moment later, when he notices the entire room is still silent, he looks up. Sabine and Zeb have joined Ezra in staring incredulously.

“What?” Kanan asks, his voice back to normal.

“I’ve never seen you that mad before,” Sabine admits with a half-shrug, though her eyes betray her concern.

Zeb nods, arms crossed. “And I’ve never seen you without that thing on your neck.”

“Yeah, you even sleep with it!” Ezra adds. “What’s up with that?”

“I—” He goes to make an excuse but stops, his hand fidgeting with the necklace.

“You don’t have to…” Sabine starts to say, but he shakes his head.

He sighs. To be honest, he’s surprised Zeb and Sabine haven’t asked before. “My best friend gave it to me.”

Ezra immediately sits down across from him, eyes wide. “Another Jedi?”

Admittedly, the kid is a lot like he used to be: always asking questions, always pushing. It’s going to get him in trouble someday but for now, it just gets him more stories out of Kanan, stories about the Jedi.

“Yeah. Yeah, another Padawan. We grew up in the Temple together.” He smiles, a fickle and fleeting thing. “He was picked by a Master before me, so we were separated...at the end. But I found him again, on the planet he was last assigned. He gave me this.”

Ezra’s face is bright, curious. Sabine, on the other hand, looks prepared for a gut-punch.

“What happened to him?” she asks quietly.

Kanan exhales sharply, ruefully. “Inquisitors. After 5 years of nothing, they came out of nowhere. I never saw what happened to him. For all I know, they still have him.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, his face falling.

“You know, Zeb,” Kanan begins, not wanting to make things any sadder, “his Master was a Lasat.”

He scoffs. “No way.”

“He was, swear it on my life!” he claims, raising a hand. “First time I saw you, I thought Master Tapal came back to haunt me for being a bad influence.”

Zeb snickers. “Bad influence? You?”

“Eh, a nudge here and there. We were not good kids.”

He tells them a few stories before Sabine and Zeb are called away by Hera and Chopper, leaving Ezra and Kanan alone. Ezra makes to follow them but stops, his expression cautiously blank.

“What is it, Ezra?” Kanan asks, already knowing that he’s brimming with curiosity.

“You said he was...your best friend?”

He frowns. “Yeah, ever since we were kids. Why?”

“I dunno. The way you talked about him just reminded me of my parents,” Ezra admits hesitantly. “Sappy. Did you—?”

Kanan sighs, touching his necklace again.

He had always been more reckless than Cal, back then. He threw himself into everything, into every situation. No matter the problem or the person, he was all-in. No matter what. And that included Cal. Once he took that step, he was karked. Before he knew it, he was hanging onto the redhead’s every word.

Cal was...different. Kanan had known that for a long time but the war only brought it out.

Kanan had a stupid crush, that was all. But on Bracca, it was everything and more.

He’d known then, known for a long time. Cal had never seen it but he didn’t have to. Kanan was fine the way things were. It didn’t feel right, bringing things up after...well, after. So Cal never knew.

(Sure, he could see the past of things with a single touch of his hands but he’d always been pretty oblivious.)

“Love him?” Kanan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ezra nods.

It’s without hesitation that he answers. “I did.”

When they go in search of Master Luminara, Kanan’s kids buy him a precious few minutes to search for a Cal Kestis in the prisoner logs. He’s not there, of course, but Kanan thinks he prefers that to a death certificate.

*

“Ho-oly shit,” Greez says over comms one day. “You guys better get up here.”

Cal shares a look with Cere, following her out of the workshop with BD on his shoulder. Merrin has already teleported to Greez’s side when they arrive, lightsabers in hand. Greez passes the young man—not so young anymore, Cere has commented teasingly as he desperately shaves away any trace of his age—a pair of electrobinoculars.

Squinting through the scope, he spies a trail of smoke on the horizon attached to a ship.

“Kriffing hells,” Cere says after she gets a look.

In all their 10 years here, no one has ever landed—or crashed, for that matter—on the planet. The few ships that have come into orbit were Imperial and always quickly dealt with before word could get out. This one, however, isn’t exactly your standard Imperial cruiser. And it’s wrecked.

“Looks like a modified VCX-100 light freighter to me,” Greez says. “It’s a nice ship.”

Merrin rolls her eyes. “Are we waiting for them to come to us?”

“Looks like we don’t have to,” Cere declares, still looking through the binocs. “They’re headed this way, six hostiles. Three humans, a Lasat, a Twi’lek, and a droid.”

Greez laughs. “A Lasat? We’re kriffed.”

“Says you,” Merrin snorts.

“I’m with her,” Cal agrees, a cocky smile on his face. “Merrin and I will take the Vault. Cere, Greez, take home. BD will lure the big ones our way.”

“You got it, kid.”

Cere puts a hand on his shoulder before he can follow Merrin—more or less, seeing as she just teleports everywhere. “Be careful.”

The worst part of intruders is that even the hypothetical good ones can’t know Bogano is here. They’ll have to knock them out hard enough for their memories to be spotty and dump them in a nearby system if they’re smart—and they are.

Cal slips on his robe, a gift from Cere, and flips the hood up, making for the Vault.

If these visitors think they can take the Holocron, they have another thing coming.

*

“Are you sure we can find help here?” Ezra asks for the third time as they approach the massive building in the distance. “It looks...deserted.”

Hera sighs for the third time. “Scanners said there were signs of life here in a higher concentration than the rest of the planet. It’s worth checking out.”

Sabine gestures through the mild fog. “There’s buildings up ahead.”

“Good, let’s head there,” Kanan says, a cautious hand on his lightsaber.

Hopping across platforms is a pain, but they all manage to make their way to what looks like a residential area. A small path digs into the ground, leading deeper inside the planet’s crust. With a look at her second in command, Hera starts toward it. However, she stops when Kanan freezes.

“Do you feel that?” he asks suddenly, squinting as he looks into the distance.

Something is...tugging at him. Something in the Force is insistent that he go...that way. The feeling of incompleteness settles inside his chest.

“No…” Ezra replies uneasily. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” After a moment, he decides. “I think I should go this way. You guys go on ahead.”

Zeb scoffs. “I’ll go with you. We don’t know who lived here. Could be Inquisitors for all we know.”

“They generally prefer places with lava,” Ezra counters.

The group splits, with Hera leading Sabine, Chopper, and Ezra into the abode. She and Sabine have their blasters raised, while Ezra keeps a hand on his lightsaber. Chopper is always ready to give someone a nasty shock.

“Anyone home?” Sabine calls.

There’s no answer.

They come across a small kitchen and dining room, where two chairs are pulled out. Over one hangs a small, ratty brown robe with multiple blaster burns.

Ezra plucks it off the back of the seat. “Woah, cool,” he breathes. “Very Jedi-like, huh?”

“Leave it, Ezra,” Hera chides fondly.

“You’d best,” says another voice.

All three of them jump as a lightsaber hums to life. Double-bladed, the weapon burns bright white throughout the room, illuminating its bearer, a woman with dark skin and hair, and her companion.

“Inquisitor!” Ezra cries, lighting his own.

The lightsaber wielder’s friend fires off a blaster right at Hera, who’s shoved out of the way by Sabine. Chopper shrieks, his head spinning.

“Look out!”

On the surface, Zeb follows Kanan to the edge of the platform. There, they find a zip line, which they intend to brave before a series of chirps stops them.

Zeb yelps and lifts his rifle when a droid appears, only stopped by Kanan’s raised hand.

It’s...a buddy droid.

“Hey, little guy,” Kanan greets cautiously. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He beeps excitedly and backs away, indicating that they should follow. With a single leap, he attaches himself to the zipline and whirrs as he zooms all the way down.

“Don’t tell me we’re following the droid,” Zeb groans.

Kanan just smiles. “We’re following the droid.”

Using the Force to balance himself, he leaps atop the zipline and begins to tiptoe his way down. Behind him, Zeb sighs but reaches up to grab the line, following right after him. They land on a platform a good distance away, where a small slope is guarded by two statues; the beings depicted are of an unknown species, one lost to time.

“I don’t like this,” Zeb says as soon as he hops onto the grass. “It’s like the start of a bad horror holo.”

Kanan snorts. “If that were true, it would be raining tookas and massiffs.”

The buddy droid whirrs loudly to get their attention and bounces his way up the sloping path, on top of which sits a fluffy native creature. Kanan doesn’t know what they’re called, but this one is adorable. She chirps at them, much like the droid did.

“Oh, you’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Kanan coos, moving to meet the creature and let her sniff his hand.

She makes a happy noise and nudges him.

“Ugh,” Zeb mutters, “more things.”

The droid and the creature lead them to the entrance of the massive, ancient building that had caught Kanan’s eye from the crash site. He steps in front of Zeb, placing his hand on the runes in the rock as the Force sings. This isn’t what’s calling him, but…

“Something is here,” Kanan whispers.

“I hope it’s not something that wants to eat us,” Zeb says long-sufferingly.

The slab of rock retreats into the space above, leaving an open tunnel of sorts.

“Karabast,” the Lasat curses, “I hate Jedi stuff.”

Kanan rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

It’s a tight fit, but the two squeeze their way through, Kanan leading the way. They exit into a large cavern filled with a few inches of water, just enough to be annoying. Standing in the midst of the cave is a figure in a brown robe. The moment Kanan spots him, he draws his lightsaber and stands in front of Zeb until he can ready his rifle, too.

“You are not meant to be here.”

Kanan frowns. “The Force says otherwise. Who are you?”

“The guardian of this vault. You need to leave,” the figure says.

From underneath their robe, they draw a very familiar weapon. With a snap and a hiss, two blades of yellow light appear. Kanan lights his own lightsaber in response but it’s too little too late.

A green smoke encompasses Zeb, who yelps as he’s flung across the room by a pissed off Nightsister—which makes zero sense because they’re all supposed to be dead.

Kanan makes for his friend, interrupted only by the mysterious guardian rushing at him.

“Where did you get that lightsaber?” the faceless figure hisses.

And, well, Kanan doesn’t know how to answer that question except with another question. “Where did you get yours? ”

Back in the residential platform, Hera leaps in between Ezra and the lightsaber-wielder. “Wait!” she cries.

Both stop, staring at her like she’s crazy.

“That’s a healed kyber crystal, isn’t it?” Hera asks, pointing to her white blade. “You’re not an Inquisitor. You’re a Jedi.”

The woman lowers her lightsaber just slightly. “I was.”

“I’m one, too!” Ezra chirps, popping out from behind Hera. “Er. I’m training to be one!”

Her eyes widen. “A Padawan? Who’s your Master?”

Before he can answer, Hera speaks for him. “Kanan Jarrus. But his name used to be Caleb Dume.”

“Caleb?” she asks, her voice hushed in awe. “Depa Billaba’s Padawan?”

She nods.

Abruptly, the woman turns sharply on her heel, raising her comm unit to her lips and rushing out the door. “Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

“What!?” Ezra and Sabine cry at the same time, the former’s voice cracking.

Without another word, they follow her and her friend outside.

*

Merrin has the Lasat out of the Vault long before Cal gets his opponent to the entrance, admittedly. Lightsaber to lightsaber combat is significantly more balanced than Nightsister magick against a bo-rifle, poor guy.

Still, Cal pushes the intruder to the top of the Vault’s slope, the man just on the edge of slipping.

That’s when Cere’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

Hand grasping the intruder’s shirt, holding him above the edge, Cal freezes. He meets brown eyes and suddenly can’t breathe, gaze drifting to the cord around the taller man’s neck. His gloveless fingers just barely skim the material, Force signatures exploding in front of his eyes.

And suddenly, he can see it. He can see himself, painstakingly painting that symbol onto the metal and bartering for a cord. He sees an older Caleb sobbing in the quiet of an unfamiliar room, clutching that necklaces like a lifeline.

“Did you—?”

“Love him? I did.”

A shaky breath passes his lips.

“Caleb?” he asks, voice breaking on the name that’s so unfamiliar on his tongue.

The grip on his wrist loosens.

Kanan hears the woman’s voice, clear as day, but he almost doesn’t believe it at first. He almost doesn’t believe when he hears that whispered question. Caleb. It’s the name of a stranger and yet—yet when that robe’s hood slips off to reveal red hair and bright green eyes, he feels like he’s never known any other name.

“Cal?”

The Force wasn’t calling him to the Vault. It was calling him to its guardian.

Silence falls, the rest of the world fading away. All they’ve been through, all they’ve seen, and it all stops in this moment. It all adds up to this.

Cal lets go of his shirt, letting him balance precariously at the top of the muddy slope down from the Vault. Neither of them speaks—neither of them knows what to feel, except bright, unparalleled joy.

Cal doesn’t let himself flinch when Caleb reaches, his fingers just barely skimming his cheek.

He doesn’t get much further. Green smoke encompasses his body and before Cal knows it, his best friend is being flung from the Vault entrance to the platform beyond, screaming as he goes. The platform beyond, where the Oggdo used to reside, is covered in flowers. It was there that Cal planted his little sapling in a boot and there that the plant spread, covering almost every inch of land with budding blue and yellow flowers.

Cal whirls around to see Merrin, her eyes glowing green.

“Merrin, no!” he protests, eyes wide with desperation. “That’s Caleb!”

Merrin’s glowing fades as she glances at the nearby Lasat and her friend’s horrified face. “My mistake,” she says in that tone that says she knows exactly who he is.

(They were taking too long to speak, in her opinion.)

Cal huffs at her before getting a running start toward the entrance, using the Force to balance himself as he slides down that muddied slope, sailing right toward Caleb. Near the end, he leaps into the air, propelling himself a mere few feet from his collapsed companion.

“Caleb!” he cries, stumbling the last few steps and falling to his knees, where Caleb is face-down in the damp grass, his hair-tie mysteriously missing.

Caleb is—well, he’s okay. He’s just...wheezing with laughter.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and flips over just as Cal makes it to him, his chest heaving with the effort. And still, he laughs, a half-mad sound.

“Are you o—?” Cal is cut off by his own yelp when Caleb flings himself up from the ground and pulls Cal with him.

He embraces the redhead, dragging them both to their feet so he can swing Cal around. Cal shrieks and hitches his legs up on his hips, as difficult as that is with the man’s height—the bastard, he grew. He reaches desperately for Caleb’s shoulders to hold onto when they spin, completely unaware of Cere and the rest of Caleb’s group appearing on the platform.

Finally, Caleb stops, looking up at Cal with shining eyes and a smile that could kill a man. Cal leans forward, letting his forehead fall against his and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I thought the Inquisitors had you,” Caleb whispers, a thousand more words in the back of his mind, too many to count.

Cal’s eyes well with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

Caleb has always been more reckless than Cal but the latter was the one to hear his words echo through that necklace, an admission years too late. It’s because of that little echo that Cal buries a hand in the hair that falls to his shoulders and pushes his head upward, meeting him in a searing kiss.

Out of shock, Caleb both squeaks—adorable, Cal thinks—and clutches the back of Cal’s shirt for a moment before dropping him. Luckily, his instinct has him landing on his feet.

The drop pulls him away and, looking up, he sees Caleb looking shell-shocked.

He just grins, grabs the taller man’s shirt, and pulls him in for another kiss, this one saying much more than the first. Caleb plants his feet and buries a hand in Cal’s hair for good measure.

They both ignore Greez cackling in the distance and Sabine’s whispered: “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck —”

Because in that moment, all is right with the galaxy. Cal’s flowers are fully grown and blossoming beneath their feet, Caleb’s robe is waiting for him in the other room, and they have each other again.

And that’s all they’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[smokahuntis]

Who do I have to kill?

Who do I have to kill?

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker X Reader

Prompt: “don’t tell me what to do!” And “Who do I have to kill...”

Warning: mentions of death! Blood! Violence! Palpatine! Younglings...

Summery: (y/n) returns from a mission barley stable, and Anakin finds himself hearing The Tragedy of Dark Plagueis...

“Master, when am I going to become a master like (y/n)?” Anakin asked looking at Obi-Wan, who shook his head and looked at his young Padawan.

“When you are ready Anakin, (y/n) has a very high Midi-Chlorian count, she was able to master the force much faster then even Windu.” He said looking at Anakin.

“I have a high Midi-Chlorian count too master!” Anakin began as obi-wan shook his head.

“Yes you do, but she was also able to control her emotions much easier then you are Anakin. You just need training...”

“I control my emotions just fine master!” Anakin began, but as if on Cue a group of Jedi’s ran in holding someone in their arms, Anakin couldn’t see who it was until their arm fell from the holders. He caught a glimpse of the bloodied hand that dropped onto the marble floor of the temple. Tho he couldn’t see her he could sense her being close by, it was her, bloodied and beaten and being carried to the council. Once everything clicked in his head he moved rushing forward to try and get to them to see if what he feared was true, but Obi-Wan grabbed him and shook his head pushing him back.

“Let them take care of it Anakin...” obi-wan said holding his Apprentice back. Anakin could feel tears in his eyes as he felt her life force stuttered in the arms of the Jedi. Anakin fought against his master one last time.

“You can’t help her Anakin!” Obi-Wan said looking at his much taller Padawan. Anakin looked down at him and shook his head, pushing him away. “Don’t do thi-“

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He said storming past him and towards where they took her. His heels clicking on the marble, Obi-Wan fast on them to. Trying to stop him before he made a huge mistake.

Obi-Wan knew what had happened, the council was told early this morning what had happened, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Anakin yet. He couldn’t catch up with him either, Anakin was moving like wild fire towards the infirmary, swinging open the large doors his eyes locked onto the large glass container she was put in to heal, she almost looked beyond repair.

Beaten, bruised and blooded, he could see where a lightsaber Pierced her left shoulder and took away her right hand. He could feel her pain as her hair flowed in the Bacta-Tube covered in blood. He could feel her soul screaming out for help as she suffered, but at least she was asleep. At least in the Bacta-Tube she was knocked out and didn’t feel the pain she was going threw, she probably didn’t even know it was going on. But who ever did this to her did, who ever hurt her this way knew she was suffering, and he needed to know who it was.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said as he caught up to his apprentice, looking into the room to see what had froze him. The almost naked figure of the girl he knew Anakin loved, unconsciously floating around in the thick liquid. He felt sorry for him, having to see her like this.

“You knew....” Anakin said, his voice cracking at the words. He looked down at Obi-Wan, anger flooding his veins. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Anakin I-“

“The meeting this morning, is this what this was about?” He said looking at him feeling the rage fill him.

“Control your emotions anakin...” Obi-Wan said looking at him before he stormed off to be alone. “Anakin!”

—

Anakin found himself in her room, looking back on his time with her, remembering everything he loved, everything she loved.

“Anakin?” She said as she walked into the door, her robes dragging the ground as she walked forward. “It’s late, what are you doing here?” She said looking at him. She had just gotten back from a mission and was really tired, sweaty, and hungry. So hungry she swore she could smell food cooking.... no she did smell food cooking.

“I needed to talk to you, and I knew you got back tonight so I came and made you some food.” He said smiling over his shoulder, the smell of beef and vegetables filled the air as she smiled, running her hand over her face.

“You didn’t need to cook for me Anakin.” She said letting her cloak fall off her shoulders and her lightsaber lay on the counter.

“Oh but I did, see I know how hangry you get after missions, and it’s not good for a Jedi like yourself. “ he said pouring some of the soup into a bowl before turning to hand it to her. “And I know how cold Hoth is, and how well you love my Beef and vegetable soup.” He said kissing her head as she took the hot bowl from his hands blushing.

“You truly are a gift aren’t you?” She said sitting down on the counter. He chuckled and grabbed his own bowl before they began to eat in silence. He always enjoyed having late dinners with her, usually she would cook for him and on special occasions he would cook. Like tonight.

She was washing their dishes as he stood across the kitchen wiping down the counter, he spoke quickly and quiet, but she heard every word of it.

“I think I love you.”

A loud crash followed and glass shattered onto the floor at her feet. He turned quickly in shock and looked at her, rushing to her side.

“Are you alright?” He asked taking her hands into his checking for cuts or blood, he didn’t see anything, but when his eyes met hers again he could see it wasn’t the bowl, it was him. “(Y/n) I’m sorry I sho-“

“I love you too...” she said looking at him, her eyes pleading for him to make a move or say it isn’t true, anything but just stare back at her. And so he did, leaning down and taking her lips with his in a heated passionate kiss, his hands resting on her cheeks, pulling her closer to him.

He hated not being able to kiss her like that again, he hated not knowing if she was really gone or not. It was like he could feel her but at the same time like she wasn’t there, he couldn’t take it.

—

She was finally resting back in her own bed, Anakin sat at her side as she rested. Still hooked to a Bacta-Drip so she could continue to heal, not waking up because of it either. But Anakin was taking care of her, knowing she’d wake up when her body was ready to be awake.

Seeing her like this truly broke his heart, and he put his whole training on hold to take care of her. To hold her hands and try to soothe her pain the best he could. The amount of pain he could feel she was in almost made him take Chancellor Palpatine up on his offer.

He sat with the chancellor in their seats as he talked. Anakin wasn’t really paying attention, to focused on if (y/n) would be alright. That was until Palpatine asked him a question, he couldn’t say why but it pulled him in.

“Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?” Palpatine asked looking forward still.

“No.” Anakin answered looking down at the Chancellor, who continued on his speech.

“I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create...life. He had such a knowledge of the Dark Side, he could even keep the ones he cared about...from dying.”

“He could actually...save people from death?” Anakin asked looking at the Older man. Palpatine have a small nod and went on.

“The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.”

“What happened to him?”

“He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power...which, eventually of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death...but not himself.”

“Is it possible to learn this power?”

“Not from a Jedi.” Palpatine said finally looking directly at Anakin.

“You know someone who could teach me this power?” He asked looking at the chancellor.

“Yes, but you will need to kill someone first.”

Anakin stood up and began walking towards the chancellor’s office, anger, fury, power, and love, ran threw his whole body taking over for him. He couldn’t stop as he made his way to the chancellor’s office, opening the doors lucky enough to find him alone.

“Who do I have to kill?”

Tag list : @jediminddicks1000 @monamourani @killerkb123 @retrobhaddie

[thepartingglassofthorin]

Of Prison

Bree's markets were always busy at Noon. The streets always full of merchants, merchandise, travelers, visitors and, worst of all, pick pockets. Flambard hated it, watching the children and young adults move through the crowd and silently pull coins, bracelets, and other baubles of value from unsuspecting victims. Flambard had been ordered not to intervene unless the traveler noticed.  Until then, he would watch and cringe as he saw the younglings move through the crowd. His thoughts wandered as he swung his sling around, but mostly focused around his own younglings. How grateful he was that the Guards had hired him. Hobbits here in Bree were often thought little of, if anyone noticed them.

As a fight broke out near a vendor, Flambard jumped down from his elevated view of the square and southern street, his leather squeaking against his arm guard, wet from the misting rain that had been moistening the area all week. "Outta thee way," he yelled, shoving through the big folk that had formed a circle around the fight. A few wouldn't move, so he grasped the pocket of his sling and brought the leather strings across their backsides. They moved then, normally with a yelp and a curse directed at him. "Outta thee way, Guard comen thru!" He shouted again, now swishing the leather straps of his sling back and forth, striking everyone in his way, as it sounded like the fight escalated. He could see it now, it seemed that a shorter person in a cloak and hood was either trying to get out of the crowd, or stir them up. The latter happened more often then not, Flambard growled his breath and plunged into the tussle, his sling flaying this way and that, his voice raised over the noise of the brawl, many moved away now that the officials had arrived. The shorter happened to be a dwarf, his cowl pulled low over his head, shadows covering his frightened face. Flambard stood at the edge of the fight, digging in his pouch for a stone to sling at the fighters. The other two were big folk, who didn't appear to know what they were doing; the dwarf sure did though! Flambard raised his sling and stone, whirling it over his head as he watched the three attack each other. He loosed it at the dwarf, who fell onto his back. The other two, however did not back down from fighting, they continued to barrage the dwarf. " 'AY," Flambard yelled at them, running around to face them. "I said stop," he added as he loosed another stone as he moved, this one found its way to the buttox of the man who was barraging the dwarf, he stopped with a sharp shriek and a quick movement to feel the damaged muscle. The other dropped the dwarf, he had been holding him in a way do he couldn't fight back. Not that he would, he was out cold. The one with the bruised backside sneered at the guard hobbit, still rubbing his bruise. "Oi, let us handle this monster, he's too big fer ye!" "By the authority of-" Flambard was stuck by the second man, who stood above him with a mocking sneer. Flambard landed on his elbows and knees, his head reeling from the strike. "I remember you," he growled. "You're the one who took my woman!" Flambard cringed. He remembered this bloke too. He had been apart of many thefts, armed robberies, and other crimes, while his partner was his wife. When the Guard had enough evidence to convict them both, the Magistrate gave the man a plea deal, which he gladly took over whatever sentence the Magistrate would have decreed. The woman however, wasn't as lucky. She was sentenced to ten years in prison, and two years of community service after that. The man gave Flambard a powerful kick to his ribs, knocking what little breath he had out of him. Flambard cringed, his stomach threatening to leave through his mouth as he rolled across the cobbled streets. When he stopped, Flambard reached into his pouch, grabbing his little whistle, putting it to his bloody lip and blowing a long and clear note, followed by two short. As he took a deep breath to repeat the call, the second man kicked the whistle away from him and smashed his hand against the street, giving a horrible crunch. Flambard yelled out in pain, pushing at the heavy foot covering that pinned him to the ground, tears filling his eyes from the pain. Beyond the shoe, The hobbit could see the others on the street glancing at him, then walking away. Even with the possibility of having a community mocking, they wouldn't help him. How little the big folk think of them, the hobbits! They must think of them as a nuisance, a pest even! Flambard brought his teeth down on the man's ankle, which was sharply yanked out of his grip as the human howled in angry pain, holding his bloody foot. Flambard shakily stood, his breath short and raspy. The one who had pinned him was still screaming about his foot, but the other was getting his rear end handed to him by the, still frightened, still tired, dwarf.  "OI, SCATTER!" Someone who had stuck around to watch yelled, pointing behind Flambard. The clipity clop of horse hooves emitted from the noise of the crowds behind him, along with the clanking of armor. "Master Flambard! Do you have any idea what you've done?!" The Captain paced behind his desk, a scowl wrinkling his already wrinkly face, his mustache was actually riding up his face however. Flambard wasn't sure if he was amused or enraged, it was quite hard to tell with him. The Hobbit's arm was in a cushioned sling, and he was leaned back in his chair, a cold steak on his face. How the Captain had convinced the Magistrate to give him a steak was beyond him! He could also only breath in short gasps, but otherwise he was alright.  His job, however, was on the brink of dying. "As punishment, you are restricted to jail duty until further notice," The Captain said, snarling at the hobbit. "And if any of the criminals act out, if you dare even attempt to calm them, you'll wish you were still a brewer..."  Flambard pulled his head off the back of the chair, his mouth open to give the captain a Tookish insult. Jailer's duty?! How wretchedly boring! And that was only if there were prisoners within the cells, otherwise it was making sure the armor was clean and polished, the barracks were also clean, and the fireplace was free of ash! But the fury hiding calmly behind his commander's eyes silently told him not to push further. With a tired salute, Flambard stood and shuffled to the jailer's desk, located just down the hall and a little to the left, directly opposite of the cells. They had only two prisoners today, thankfully. The woman from the crime couple had been there, but was sent to the northern jail, where she could be better taken care of as she served out her sentence.  The cell furthest away from the Jailer's desk held a small boy who had picked a wealthy dwarf with a very large red beard, Flambard remembered the beard reminded him of pig tusks. The dwarf had, at first, asked that the boy be punished harshly, he had after all, stolen a very large golden chain from him, the dwarf said it was from his father. As the child was dragged away, Flambard was asked to get the dwarf's full report, as usual. The dwarf watched as the child was taken away, a grim look on his bushy face. The first thing he said was a plea to reduce the child's punishment, he then dug io his pockets and fished out several gold coins to give to the boy once he was released. Flambard was then very glad he had been the one to get the dwarf's report, because he then gave Flambard several coins as well. The other prisoner was the dwarf that had started the fight, he was currently sleeping, stirring ever so slightly in his sleep.  The guard sitting at the table smiled at Flambard as he waked in to the room, his gaze still a little taller then the Hobbit's. "And the mighty warrior vanquishes the dragon again," he shouted, slapping his knee as he moved to stand, giving the seat and post to Flambard. "Aye, but I might have no hair left," Flambard said, gratefully taking the now empty seat. The guard laughed again, slapping Flambard's back. "But that ain't what matters Tookie, what matters is that you've-" "Shown I can handle my own, and that may get me promoted," Flambard finished with the guard, ending with a grumble. "How many times does that make it now, Stephen?! How much longer will I need to get the stuffing beat out of me?!" Before his friend could reply, the Captain walked past, casting a weary glance at the two as he passed, heading to the door at the end of the hallway that lead out to the street. As the door slammed shut, Stephen replied. "Maybe you're going about it the wrong way?"  Flambard gave him a tired glare, Stephen shrugged as he snatched his coat off the desk. "Well, I'm off to have dinner with her folks," he said, slinging his coat over his shoulder and staring dreamily into nothing. Flambard rolled his eyes, adjusting his piece of steak so it wouldn't fall off his face. "So you think she's the one," Flambard asked with a light chuckle. "Oh, absolutely," he said, emphasizing the last two syllables, pulling his open hand towards himself, closing it as it neared his chest. "She's got the most beautiful voice, I bet the Magistrate would pay her just to speak at him," here he lowered his voice, "That is, if he could hear!"  The two laughed, although Flambard was quite sure he said the same thing about the last girl. Stephen shrugged, a goofy grin on his face as he strode proudly towards the door. "Wish me luck," he called over his shoulder as he walked through the door. It shut with a loud thud as he kicked it, a habit Stephen had been warned about, but he never listened to the warnings. Flambard sighed as he leaned back in the old wooden chair, rotating his head as he settled into his chair.Three hours had gone by, he had eaten a meal with the prisoners, it happened to be the child's last one there before being released. He had stared at the golden coins as Flambard gave him instructions so he wouldn't end up back in the cells, or the stocks. The dwarf watched as the child ran out the door, he munched slowly on his gruel, and watched as Flambard shuffled back to the desk, hissing as he sat down. "Glad to see you can walk," he said, setting his half eaten bowl to the side. "What of you're hand?" Flambard looked at his bandaged hand, grimacing as he tried to move one of his fingers. "Well, Doc said it should be better, assuming he didn't completely shatter every bone, in a few months, but I can even move any fingers," He replied, pulling his mouth to one side as he lifted his hand up to show the dwarf. The dwarf's jaw rotated as he looked at the bandaged hand, the entire thing was covered and splinted, the only bit of skin on his arm between the end of the bandage and the cuff of his coat was a little green, but it otherwise looked like a hand. "My apologies," the dwarf said, standing and striding to the cell bars. "But I could have handled it."  Flambard snorted, "And I'm seven foot eight! What were you even thinking, picking a fight like that?!" The dwarf pursed his lips slightly as he thought, a dark, frightening look crossed his eyes for a moment, before turning sorrowful. "I accidentally ran into the woman behind me, her courtier over reacted." Flambard snorted again, this time a tight smile graced his round face. "Well, that sounds like a good man! Any idea who threw the first punch?" "Sir Hobbit, I know you are doing your job," the dwarf said, growing impatient, by the tone in his voice. "But I am going to be late for a very important meeting." "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Flambard said, his voice strained. "You probably cost me my yearly bonus, any use from my hand for the next quarter, and I very well might be fired because of you-" "As I said before, you shouldn't have gotten involved-" "Don't interrupt! And don't think you are getting out of that cell! You're staying there until morning, at the very least!" Silence fell between the two, only the fireplace crackled as it slowly warmed the room. The dwarf stuck his chin out and went back to the mattress in the corner of his cell, probably contemplating his actions as he rubbed his beard. Flambard stuck his own chin out and grumbled a quiet curse, directed at him, setting the steak on the desk as he moved to place more wood onto the fire.  Most of the night passed without much more, the dwarf returned to sleeping, but he didn't get much. Every time he would find sleep, he would toss and turn, grumble, at one point he even woke up crying. Flambard kept his nose in his book, trying to ignore the dwarf's stifled sobs, but it was becoming increasingly harder to do as the night passed.

TAGS: @agirlunderarock @cassiabaggins @emrfangirl @tschrist1

[lordsia]

I have seen a lot of people blaming Mace Windu, blaming the Jedi Order, blaming everyone except Anakin and Sidious for Anakin’s Fall. Two common explanations is “the Jedi didn’t trust Anakin,” and “the Jedi kidnap and brainwash children.”

But, explain to me the part where the Younglings see a Jedi Master they trust, and they come out of hiding and ask what's going on. What they're going to do.

Imagine how they felt.

They, a bunch of psychic children in training, have spent the last hour or so feeling distant flashes of pain and horror, the Force probably screaming at them 'Flee! Run! Hide!'

And then Anakin arrives! Everything will be fine, the day is saved! A Jedi Master is here, and not just any Master, it's the youngest Master in history, the genius prodigy, the Hero Without Fear, The Chosen One. He will protect them, he will tell them where to go and what to do and then he'll go and defeat the Bad Guys, it's what he's been doing ever since he was their age!

Then he ignites his lightsaber.

I imagine the first one didn't have time to realise what was going on; he probably thought that there was someone else in there, an assassin, a monster, the source of all the bad omens and horrible premonitions, and Anakin was going to stop it.

He probably died thinking Anakin was going to save him.

The others? They are not so lucky. They see their hero cut down their friend before their eyes, and their world breaks.

They scream.

No, they scream, not Willy! They've lost so many to the War, but never one of their own, never seen someone so close to them killed before their eyes, never felt so clearly the pain as one of their own is murdered.

No, they scream, as the murderer walks forward and cuts down D'akagent. It can't be Master Anakin, it's a fake, a fraud, an impostor, a shapeshifter or a hologram!

No, they moan, as the Fallen One twists and impales Tibeau, and their friend screams, he screams and he keeps screaming in the Force even as his lungs run out of air and only bloody froth bubbles past his lips. The Force does not lie. No one could fake that presence, that blazing font of pure light. And it is not the darkness surrounding them that obscures the light of that font, that taints it with treachery and blood.

No, they whimper as Ang'Zent'Vel tries to run only to be Force Pushed into the wall, hard enough that they hear and feel their friend's bones shatter, and the light of their soul snuff out. And that font of light turns just a little darker, another pint of innocent blood staining once-pure waters red.

No, they whisper, as Davvi is cut in half by a thrown lightsaber, which spirals around and back into the hand of their Hero. For that is who he is, and he is not here to save them from traitors and murderers - he is the traitor and murderer.

No, they beg throug the Force, but the one in front of them does not care, does not stop - and when they reach for the other Masters, the Force screams back, pain-fear-betrayal-murder-traitor-death-silence-WHY?!

And then the last of them dies, tears and snot and whimpered cries for mercy, for the nightmare to end and for them to wake up, all of it ends with one last stroke from a bright blue blade of light.

And the Temple is silent as Anakin turns around and walks out, not even caring as his cloak trails over the mutilated bodies of the children he's murdered. He has no time to spare if he is to reach Padmé in time to save her.

Is this Mace Windu's fault, for believing that Anakin did not have enough control over his emotions to be trusted with the teachings of the Order? Was it the Order's fault, for normally only taking in children too young to have formed outside bonds, and then raising them as their own, teaching them to control the powers that will define their life? Or perhaps it was their fault because they let him out of the Temple, allowed him to see and talk to people outside the Order, despite the fact that his indoctrination and brainwashing was so obviously incomplete?

Perhaps it was Obi-Wan's fault, for not forcing Anakin to share his thoughts and fears, for not using his own mastery of the Force to pry these feelings from his Padawan's mind and heart, for not violating the one sanctuary a born slave has, the only place where they can truly call their own? For not insisting when he - time and again in Episode II and Episode III - offered Anakin his support, asked him what was wrong, tried to make him open up?

Or maybe it was Padmé - after all, she betrayed him! Just because he just betrayed the Republic she dedicated her life to serve and protect. Just because he saved Palpatine, the Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire war and betrayed everyone and everything they stood for. Just because he murdered a bunch of Jedi! She didn't care when he killed Sandpeople for murdering his mother, why would she care who he killed to save her?!

But whoever is to blame here, it is not Darth Sidious, the only one who truly respected Anakin, the only one who truly appreciated him, who was willing to teach him what he needed, what he wanted.

And certainly not Anakin.

Because he was the Chosen One, and we all know Prophecy is reliable and infallible, and never leads to disaster.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) i can't tell you what happened STAR WARS

(belated) Whumptober no.24 - You're Not Making Any Sense

Comfortember no.3 - Nightmare

When she sleeps, Ahsoka dreams of death. She sees the world the Son wanted behind her closed eyes; the Jedi Temple on fire, the dead left to rot on the ground where they fell, and men in familiar, comforting armour suddenly turning on them and gunning down every Jedi in sight, no matter how young or old. She sees Jedi turning on each other to survive, or for power. She sees a ship going down in flames, a massive graveyard decorated by her markings. There’s a voice in her ears, speaking in an insidious whisper to Execute Order 66, and she can hear the voices of millions crying out in harmony before a void of emptiness overtakes them. She sees Anakin across from her, hood drawn up and eyes burning yellow as he approaches a group of younglings who watch him with trusting eyes. She sees Anakin standing among fire, clad in black armour, a single eye glaring at her from the sizzling hole cut away from his helmet.

She sees the Father watching her, hears his parting words. She’d been unconscious when they’d left Mortis, but the Force being had been in her head like his Son and Daughter had before him. He had looked mournful.

“I’m sorry, my child.” The Father had said, voice oddly echoing, “This was never meant to be the life for you.” He sighed, moving forward to place a hand on top of Ahsoka’s head, the move paternal. No matter how much she tries to demand her dream-self move, to push the Father away, it always plays out how it had in real life. “But I cannot risk the balance of the galaxy for one child, no matter how much your Master wants me to. I cannot let you share what my Son so foolishly showed you.”

And as she always does, Ahsoka wakes up as fire burns through her veins. She shoots up in her bed, mouth open in a silent scream, but no sound escapes her lips; none had since Mortis.

The Father hadn’t wanted to risk Ahsoka telling anyone of the visions she had seen of that Dark future. He hadn’t wanted her to tell anyone about what the Son had showed her while he was in her head - hadn’t wanted him to tell Anakin of his possible fate, or the Council of the danger they were all in. She doesn’t want to believe any of it - it seems impossible to think of the clones turning on the Jedi, to be able to kill younglings and noncombatants in their home. She can’t imagine Rex shooting at her, or Cody turning on Master Obi-Wan. The idea of any of the men, who had so patiently allowed Initiates to hang off of them like little monkeys, killing them in their beds is impossible. The clones would rather die, and Ahsoka knows this with confidence.

She doesn’t want to believe her Master is capable of the things she had seen him do in the future the Son wanted. She doesn’t want to think him able of slaughtering the Jedi who were their family, doesn’t want to believe that he would ever Fall, but… but now that she’s seen it, she can’t unsee the possibility.

Ahsoka knows that Anakin was never the most stable of Jedi, that he was willing to throw so many things away with a single-minded determination to protect people. He had done it to Ahsoka, but he had also done it for her just as many times. Her crechemates had been furious when they had heard about the mission to rescue R2, though Ahsoka hadn’t understood at the time, not until they had told her that he was willing to let her and their men die and the mission fail for an astrodroid that he was… attached to. Master Plo had come to personally ask her if she felt safe learning under Anakin, promising that it wouldn’t be her fault if she wanted to be reassigned and that there were Masters willing to take her on. At the time, Ahsoka had been able to confidently tell him that she did, that she loved working with her Master, but now?

Now, Ahsoka looks at her Master and sees the children he could murder without even flinching, She sees the Darkness festering in his soul like an injected, untreated wound. She sees his growing anger and aggression, and she finds herself flinching away, unable to unsee the burning eyes from her vision.

Ahsoka is scared of her Master, and she can’t tell anyone why. She can’t talk to Anakin, can’t try to help him or convince him to see a Mind Healer. She can’t share the vision with Master Obi-Wan to get him the help he needs, and she can’t ask the clones what Order 66 is.

Shaking, Ahsoka curls around her legs, choking on a hiccuping sob. She doesn’t know what to do, or how to fix things. The Healers hadn’t found anything wrong with her, couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t able to speak or why there was a solid wall keeping them out of her thoughts. There was no physical proof of something having happened to her, and Ahsoka couldn’t exactly explain that it had been a metaphysical Force being who had decided to lock away her voice to stop her from spilling his secrets, because no one else remembered the events of Mortis. The Healer had concluded that it was psychological in root, that Ahsoka had been traumatized. They had tried to argue against her being sent back into the field, but the Jedi were too thinly spread to spare anyone, and Ahsoka would have never let them take her away from the 501st, especially not when she had an investigation she planned to run.

But now that she’s back on the Resolute, all she can see is halls full of her men as they hunt her down, and her dreams have echoed this. She’d be on a ship on a crash course with a moon, explosions rocking the world around her, but something had changed this time, someone had changed, and it fills her with a feeling of hope.

With quivering hands, Ahsoka reaches for her comm, punching in a frequency she knows off by heart and typing out her message, listening to it ring. Rex - she needs Rex. He had been in her vision tonight, the only thing that had changed in her dreams since she had first returned from Mortis. He had been standing next to her, looking out over hundreds of graves, a comforting arm around her shoulders as a convor flew overhead, singing a hopeful song of change.

Her comm chimes when Rex replies, and for the first time since Mortis, Ahsoka smiles.

The Father hadn't wanted her to share the possible Dark future she had seen, so he had made sure that she couldn't. But Ahsoka is smart, she's crafty, and she's learned how to wiggle her way around rules, and with Rex on her side, they'd be unstoppable. Rex would help her - they could change the future she had seen. They could work together to find a way around the command the Father had planted in her mind, and they could save everyone.

(The Father was stubborn, but his Daughter is more so, and Ahsoka Tano is her chosen champion.)

[may8344]

The Journey of a Forgotten Soldier (Levi x OC)

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters:

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags:

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary:

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.3k

---

Chapter 13: I’m Not Leaving

Alana’s skin was turning cold and paler as the two conscious soldiers were racing back to the Supply Wagon. Levi let out an annoyed click of his tongue, gripping his reins tighter as he realized how far away they were from base. “Tch, hurry up!” He called to the cadet behind him, “We have to get there before she loses too much blood!” The upset soldier had already lost the other two members of his family, so he was definitely not losing her too. 

Both picked up the pace. After a couple of minutes, the brunette, Kurt Grinzor, began to see the grouped Scouts up ahead. “I see them! We’re going to make it!” His voice was shaky, but relieved. The cadet had gone through his own traumatic moments before meeting up with Levi, so he was grateful to see a ray of hope. 

Once they finally reached the wagons, the men were greeted by the sights of other wounded or terrified soldiers. With no time wasted, the ravenette quickly ran to the wagon to find medical supplies. However, he struggled trying to find the right materials and bandages. Another soldier witnessed Levi’s troubles and quickly moved to help. The two of them began to try to wrap Alana’s injuries--mainly the other soldier due to Levi’s lack of medical knowledge. Tilting his head down, the silver-eyed man leaned his ear by her face to try and hear her breathing. 

Alana’s breath was shallow as she struggled to breathe and her face was contorted in pain. Her long, dark hair had fallen out of its braid, lining around her sweaty face. She was a complete mess compared to her normal, tidy self. 

Levi was at a loss of words. So many things had happened to him over the span of a couple of hours. The initial shock of finding his ravenette friend again had worn off as he began processing the fact that they were the only ones left. How was he going to break the news to her about their lost comrades?

How was he going to tell her that he was incapable to protect the man she loved?

“Le...vi?” A small whisper resonated in the air. The mentioned man jerked his head to the voice. His silver eyes were met with bright, diamond blue ones. She looked dazed and unable to focus her vision completely. A stray tear fell from her eye as she cringed in pain. “It... hurts. Where are we…?”

Levi’s calloused hand quickly grasped onto her cold, soft one, giving  it a tight squeeze, afraid that she’d disappear if he let go. Words were never his strong suit, but he felt the need to at least say something. “It’s okay, I’m here. We’re heading back soon, and we’ll get you help. Stay with me, got it?”

Her face eased at his words while she gave him a reassuring squeeze of her hand. 

[~]

Like Levi had said, the entire Survey Corps began to return to the walls about half an hour later. The raven haired man followed closely to one of the horse drawn wooden wagons that Alana rested in. He made absolute sure that he wouldn’t take his eyes off of her; not even for a second. Thankfully the weather seemed to completely clear up as they continued their journey back. The Scouts were met with an occasional Titan on the way, but none that they couldn't deal with in the end. 

As they neared Wall Maria, the Garrison soldiers began to raise the gate. The remaining Scouts were led into the inner safeties of the wall and were greeted by the crowds of civilians belonging to Shiganshina. However, there didn't seem to be a single perky face. Some were screaming the names of their children, their family, or loved one. Some were looking at the injured soldiers with disgust and anger. According to them, the Scouting Legion was nothing more than a joke and a waste of taxes. 

To them, everyone should remain inside of the walls. 

“Joseph! Joseph, where are you!?” An older lady began shouting from the sides, searching for her son. Slowly, she limped her way towards the moving Scouts and begged them for answers. Unfortunately, she was met with the shake of a head, signalling that her child was one of the many sacrifices for humanity. The woman sank down to her knees and covered her tearfilled face while the rest of the soldiers continued on their way back to headquarters, ignoring most of the screams and cries from the rest.

Alana, though barely holding onto consciousness, was rattled awake from the large bumps of the wagon against the ground. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but she had endured worse. Although she couldn’t see completely over the sides of the wooden cart, she was able to see some heads of the civilians. So many of them were angry, but she caught sight of a certain boy, accompanied with a girl, in the crowd, who was trying to sneak a peek at the Scouts. 

The youngling had shaggy brown hair and emerald green eyes filled with amazement. A toothy grin was spread widely across his face until he realized how there were certainly less soldiers than there were the day they left. Shock filled his features, though it was obvious he still had admiration for the regiment. 

‘He reminds me of Isabel’ she thought to herself as a light smile made its way onto her face. After all, her redheaded sister’s smile was always very contagious. 

 [~]

Once the Regiment reached their headquarters in the interior of Wall Rose, Levi quietly accompanied Alana to the infirmary room. There were countless injured soldiers being taken care of by the nurses, who were scampering around with medicines and medical supplies. The wounded ravenette was carefully set on one of the beds as they worked to redress her bandages and stitch up her open wounds. 

The process seemed to take hours for Levi as he was forced to wait outside until she regained consciousness. He leaned against one of the hallway window sills racking his brain for a way to speak to his female friend. Typically, the silver-eyed thug wouldn’t have a single issue when it came to his blunt, quick remarks, but now he was struggling. Not to mention, he also had to deal with the agonizing pain of losing Furlan and Isabel mere hours ago that was sinking in.

“Yo, Levi,��� a voice broke the silence. It was Hanji, who gave him a small wave as she walked down the hallway towards him.

The ravenette’s silver eyes darted towards the sudden noise, recognizing who was speaking. It was the female that he was forced to talk to the previous night. However, this time, he didn’t have Furlan anymore to guide his conversation. Instead, he chose to remain silent, not in the mood at all to talk to her.

“Silent treatment, huh?” Hanji questioned with a half-assed smile as she put her hands on her hips. “I’m happy to hear you survived. You really are the hope of humanity.”

“Shut up, shitty glasses.” He snapped with annoyance. 

Her face dropped slightly at his harsh words. Remembering what she came here for, the brunette’s head drooped slightly. “I heard about your friends. I’m really sorry for your losses.” 

Levi’s eye twitched at her words. “The hell you are. You don’t give two shits if they survived or not. They were nothing more than death fodder for you.” Although his words were harsh, he couldn’t care less. Instead, he just glared at her with his menacing gray eyes. At this point, he couldn’t help his attitude towards the brunette. Too many things were happening, yet none of them seemed to go in his favor.

“That’s not true! Every soldier here is like family, you included!” She argued back.

“I’m not part of your shitty family, nor will I ever be. Now get the hell away from me.”

Rather than arguing back, Hanji held her tongue and nodded. She was aware of the mental pain and trauma death could cause, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t close to anyone else here other than his injured companion. Turning on her heel, she headed back towards the barracks. 

About half an excruciating hour later, the nurses gave him an ‘all clear’ as they allowed him to walk inside of the infirmary rooms. He trudged his way into the room, scrunching his nose at the hospital-esque smell of disinfectants and medicine. While Levi loved having everything spotless, this was definitely not his favorite smell. His steel gray eyes darted around the room, making contact with all of the wounded men and women. They seemed more stabilized now, but most still have faces of discomfort. 

But then his eyes met hers.

Alana was in more of a comfortable outfit, stripped of her uniform. Her hair was still down and quite messy and she was sitting up with pillows stacked behind her for comfort. From this position, the bandages wrapped around her were completely visible. Although her face was full of scratches and bruises, she gave her ravenette friend a small smile.

Levi, however, remained quiet as he pulled up a small, wooden stool and sat next to Alana’s bed. His pained eyes watched her carefully, analyzing the poor girl’s injuries. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if I were able to keep all of them safe. If only I had stopped them from coming along.’ He thought.

“Levi? What’s wrong? Do I really look that bad?” 

“You look like shit.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Ouch, you don’t have to be like that,” she strainfully laughed. “Where are Furlan and Isabel?”

His breath hitched in his throat. Though he tried to picture a response earlier, nothing was coming to his brain now. Her eyes were so pure and innocent. Her angelic smile wasn’t prepared for the news. However, he had to say it somehow. 

“They’re gone.”

Die Stühle liegen sehr eng

You and I talk all the night long

Alana’s face dropped and she gave him a blank stare. “What… What did you say?” 

“They died during the expedition.” He responded with as straight of a face as he could manage, though his voice was low and pained. Behind his hard, steel-gray eyes, millions of emotions were threatening to flood out.

Dieser niedrige Raum ist nicht schlecht

We comrades have stories to tell

“You’re kidding, right?” But deep inside, she knew he wasn’t joking. Levi was always a blunt and serious man; he hardly ever joked around. Before she knew it, tears shone in the corners of the girl’s eyes. “I bet… I bet that they’re outside right now.” Her voice trembled as she kept talking. It was a strong habit of hers to try to smile and talk during a sad situation, but this had hit differently. 

This time, half of her family was gone. 

So ist es immer, that in the evening time

We drink and we sing when our fighting is done

Alana’s clenched onto her hospital blankets tightly. A small whimper left her throat and she squeezed her eyes together, trying to block off her threatening tears. “It’s just… It’s just a joke.” She sobbed out as her breathing became more rapid while her hands searched for something to grab onto, resulting in her tightly hugging herself. On the verge of a panic attack, the ravenette began picking and scratching at her restricting bandages around her arms while trying to pry them off. “They’re not- they can’t be.” She sobbed, now switching to pulling at the loose strands of her hair with her shaking hands. 

So ist es immer, we live under the burnt clouds

Ease our burden, long is the night

“It’s not.” He fought back, clenching his jaw tightly.

“They’re not dead!” She snapped her head towards him and screamed through a cry, not caring that there were others around them. “They’re not, they’re not, they’re not! Stop fucking telling me lies, Levi!” With bared teeth, Alana gave him a deadly glare, but behind her threatening eyes, pain was completely evident. 

“Lana…” He mumbled, not knowing how to help the trembling girl. “I made the wrong choice-”

Da die Sterne nicht leuchten

We are stars and we'll beam on our town 

“I said stop!” Her hands flew up to her necklace, gripping it for dear life. It took her a couple more deep breaths--a grounding technique of hers--to calm herself as much as she could manage. Once the fight had left her gaze seconds later, Alana pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes to try and conceal her tears. “Please…” she begged, substantially quieter, “just stop.”

Levi’s mouth snapped shut at her plea. Never had he seen his friend act this way, even in the Underground. Besides, he hasn’t been able to mentally recover from the difficult blow either. Instead, he stood from his chair and awkwardly engulfed Alana into a side hug. One of his arms snaked around the smaller girl’s waist and the other gently wrapped around her head. He calmly and lightly threaded his rough fingers in her silky black hair. While he was never one for physical affection, this time was different. He didn’t want to let go.

Not again. 

“I’m here,” he mumbled against the top of the shaking girl’s head. “And I’m not leaving.”

Although it wasn’t much, the younger girl found comfort in his embrace--as well as words. When she nuzzled her face into his chest, the smell of peppermint and cedar were still prominent to her, despite the fact that he didn’t have the chance to bathe since the beginning of the expedition. Recognizing the familiar smell and being engulfed by his warmth, she left the remainder of tears stream out until her eyes were red and dry. 

Schauten wir das Licht selbst an

Sing with hope and the fear will be gone

---

(A/N) As much as I hate to say it, this is the last chapter I had prewritten since I've started. Starting now, this may be done sporadically or--at the worst--left on hiatus for a while. I've been decently busy in life and I just need to catch up on all of my things (including waiting for SnK manga and anime). For all of you now, thank you for sticking with this story and supporting me! It means more than I could ever express through my words. Love you all <3

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 

[inferior-fairy]

Whumptober 2020 Masterlist

Day 1: Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

Hanging on by a Thread

Obi-Wan didn’t know how long he’d been hanging there, only that it had been long enough for him to lose all feeling in his arms. Blood dripped down from his wrists, the weight of his own body held just above the ground causing the shackles to cut into his skin. It was starting to get harder to breathe with his arms above his head, but stretching his toes down to rest on the ground hurt too much to try and do anymore.

The sound of Obi-Wan’s breath in his cell was his only companion for a long time. He could feel himself drifting off, exhaustion overpowering the pain keeping him awake, when his cell door slammed open.

Day 2:  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

A Rock and a Hard Place

“And now the great Jedi General Anakin Skywalker is presented with a choice,” the queen grinned. Her words were barely loud enough for him to hear even though she was only a few feet away from him. There was a slight echo as her words were projected to the rest of the audience. “There are two in the arena now. Which will you choose to survive? Your master, or the slave? Who do the Jedi value more, an innocent life or one of their own?”

Day 3:  Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Falling to Pieces

“-Jedi Knight!” The queen, Miraj Scintel, was the one speaking. Her gold jewlery glimered in the sun as she continued to talk with Anakin and Ahsoka by her side. Obi-Wan continued to be paraded into the arena, pushed around if he wasn’t moving quite fast enough for the guards’ liking. “My friends, my good friends, do not fear the Jedi! They are no different from others we have forced into submission. For they have forsaken their ideals to serve a corrupt Senate! Every Jedi has become a slave to the Republic. The Jedi Order is weak and we will help break it.”

Day 4:  Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

Bird Born For Joy

Ahsoka remembered being forced into a cage on the Kadavo mission. She remembered dangling over a high drop, with large animals shaking the cage trying to get to her. Her cage was secure- and when did it become her cage instead of the cage?-  but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding at every movement.

She’d tried to stay calm and meditate, remembering the lessons she’d been taught as an initiate and later as a padawan by Master Kenobi. Cross-legged in an easy and comfortable position, hands resting lightly on her knees, focusing on breathing. Letting everything go to listen to the Force and feel it flow around, in, and through everything.

But eventually her thoughts drifted to that which she had been avoiding. The auction.

Day 5:  On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Windows to the Soul

You’re celebrating when it happens. Another battle, won with fewer casualties than is unfortunately regular. You look around to your men and you think- we might win this. One day this war will be over, and you can rest.

You can go back to your Temple with your family, mourn those you’ve lost, and celebrate the brothers joining. You can lay down your lightsabers, let them rest- for they are tired too, the kyber just as worn as the Jedi they have bonded with- and you can go back to your art. To studying history and literature, helping those who need it rather than senators who demand your attention and reduce your faith in the Force to mere parlor tricks. You can raise your younglings in a time of peace instead of sending padawans to war and you can sit and just breathe. You never missed the quiet before.

Day 6:  "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, Please"

Please...

“Stop, please,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Anakin had endured everything they'd thrown at him for so long- the cuts, whips, bruises, stabs, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. His limbs were shaking and his eyes had gone hazy and unfocused. Anakin hadn’t been able to look Obi-Wan in the eye for hours, but recently he hadn’t even been staring at his general vicinity, just into the middle distance. It was most likely a combination of the head injuries and blood loss and the Seperatists still would not let up.

Obi-Wan didn’t know if their torturer hadn’t heard or was making Obi-Wan beg for the privilege to turn over classified information. The man twirled a knife between his fingers and lightly traced the skin of Anakin’s arm with it. Anakin didn’t let out a sound as the tip slowly parted his flesh and bright red drops of blood spilled out to cover dried old trails. He was far too used to this type of pain now.

“Please! No more,” he begged without shame. Obi-Wan would say anything, so anything to stop the man before him from hurting Anakin more. “I’ll do it.”

Day 7:  Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

I’ve Got You

Obi-Wan remembers the battle. He remembers the sight of blaster bolts flying across the field. Clones screaming in fear and agony all around him. He remembers desperately blocking the shots and killing droids as they overwhelm him and his men. He remembers thinking that there’s nothing he can do to protect his padawan behind him.

It's a surprise to open his eyes again.

Day 8:  Day 8: "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

Stages of Surviving

Pain. Death. Despair. Insanity. Darkness. Revenge.

It swirled around him like an angry snowstorm

All of them, the other would feel like he himself had.

Day 9:  "Take Me Instead" | "Run!" | Ritual Sacrifice

sharpen your knife

Anakin didn't know where he was, who had him, or what had happened.

All he knew was pain.

The pain in his head, pounding in time with his heart.

He couldn't even scream as he was strapped down against the stone altar and blades pierced his arms.

Day 10:  Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

don't leave me

Bright red drops stood out starkly against pure white snow. Everywhere Anakin looked the planet was stained with the blood of his men, those dead and those still dying.

“Obi-Wan!” He yelled into the after-battle haze. Clones barely looked up from where they laid, far too used to their commander’s screaming. Normally he might stay and help comfort a few, but Anakin could barely think past his panic and the fading bond in his head. “Master!”

Anakin tugged on their bond and limped off in the direction it led as fast as he could. Everything he passed was a blur, clones blending into the background as he focused on finding exactly where Obi-Wan had ended up after being separated from Anakin. Not even a few moments later Anakin hurried his pace, the sight of smears of dark red spurring him on.

Day 11: Defiance | Struggling | Crying

break me down/build me up (to what you want me to be)

Figures walk behind the bars of Anakin’s cell, his cage. That’s what it is- a space designed to keep him in and show him off, break him until he’s little more than a feral pet in captivity. They want his mind torn in half and his body in pain, willing to do whatever they want in order to have a few more seconds of peace.

It’s too bad that they won’t get what they want.

Day 12:  Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

Even Stars Burn Out

“No no no- Anakin!” He fell to his knees next to the body of his former padawan. Up close Anakin looked even worse, golden skin pale and breath shallow. “Oh, Anakin,” he whispered as he saw the damage to his chest. Whatever had hit him had been large and heavy, enough to break nearly every rib and cave in his chest.

“Shh, no, dear one, I’ve got you,” Obi-Wan whispered as he brushed blood off of Anakin’s lips. 

“Obi- I don’t-” Anakin coughed again and more drops appeared. They stained his skin even after Obi-Wan desperately brushed them away with shaking hands. This couldn’t- no- Obi-Wan choked back a sob as Anakin choked back blood.

Day 13:  Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Obi-Wan started to panic as Anakin couldn’t stop coughing. It seemed to be getting worse as Anakin’s entire body started to shake with the force of his it.

“Anakin- Anakin what’s wrong-”

Anakin coughed again in response. He looked up at Obi-Wan with watering eyes as he forced out a quiet “Master- it hurts-” before doubling over.

Day 14:  Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

Burn

Anakin had been born in the desert. He was used to the heat of two suns beating down upon his back at all hours of the day.

OR

Anakin and fire, through his life.

Day 15:  Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

symphony of stardust

Anakin was still just barely stable when they arrived on Coruscant.

Healers swarmed them the second they touched down, voices overlapping with each other as they did their best to help Anakin while rushing him along to the Halls of Healing.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what caused it to finally happen. After hours of staying as still as the grave Anakin finally moved, his back arching off the bed as he screamed and the lights flickered.

Day 16:  Day 16: Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Hold On

“Beg me,” Maul sneered, “To spare your padawan’s life.”

Obi-Wan panted from where he was standing. He couldn’t focus on the monster threatening his former padawan, he was too focused on Anakin. On the cuts and bruises on his face, the tears in his clothing, the concussed look in his eyes. Maul’s hand threaded through Anakin’s hair was probably the only thing holding him up at the moment.

“Or should I run him through like I did your master? Let you watch the life bleed out of his eyes? Should I cut him and half and see if he can survive like I did all those years?”

Day 17:  Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

what do we have at the end of the day? / each other, and hope

"Do you understand, Vader?" Palpatine- no, Sidious- hissed. This wasn’t the grandfatherly facade Sidious had donned to fool the Jedi, the Senate, and the public- this was who he really was, the Sith behind the mask.

Anakin shook from where he was kneeling. His Master hadn’t been pleased with him ever since he’d let Kenobi escape nearly a year ago- he’d been in the med bay for weeks after that incident, recovering from what his master had done to him. He could barely walk when Sidious had sent him on another mission. Since then Anakin’s punishments for failure had been harsher and become more frequent as more and more Jedi ‘escaped’ his grasp. Anakin knew this was his last chance- leading the clones to the Jedi Temple and killing their young and their old. Or Sidious would kill him and his mother.

Day 18:  Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

should have been me

Obi-Wan stumbled back to his room when everything was over. He’d been exhausted for days after Naboo but he hadn’t been allowed to break down by himself. There were too many things to do- stay and help the Noobians then head back to Coruscant with Anakin in tow, explain everything to the Council and fight for the right to teach the boy Qui-Gon had found, then put together a schedule on how to teach a boy who hadn’t been raised in the Temple and who had never been taught their customs…

Obi-Wan kept busy enough to ignore the growing panic in his chest. He ignored the looks of pity the other Jedi gave him as he showed Anakin around the Temple. Obi-Wan had enough to do, he didn’t have time for a breakdown, and Anakin’s joy kept away the cold well enough for now.

Day 19:  Grief | Mourning A Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

sandstorm

There was nothing left, Obi-Wan finally realized weeks later. He’d known the fact earlier, of course. He knew everything he had lost with a pain deep enough to settle into his bones and keep him warm through the desert nights. Obi-Wan remembered that one night, his siblings in the order, his brother-son who he’d raised, the Republic he’d served his entire life.

He knew that he’d lost it all, and yet it still didn’t fully hit him until he was laying in his cot, alone in his hut, staring at the ceiling and wishing he was back on Coruscant. Obi-Wan knew with a sinking in his heart that manifested through the tears in his eyes that he could never go back to the home he once knew.

Day 20:  Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

stitches

Kix was a trained Medic. It was his job, what he had literally been born to do, and he was good at it.

So why did it feel that more of his patients died in his arms than survived?

Day 21:  Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

every day (rinse and repeat)

Anakin woke up in the morning and immediately took two pills. They were small, white, round things, and though he knew it would take a little while for them to kick in and actually do their job, he could swear that he felt better immediately.

He hissed as he stepped out of bed and the light from his open window hit his face. It was more jarring than it usually was and Anakin felt a spike of pain shoot through his skull. A hand reached up to rub at his forehead and Anakin groaned as he realized how dry his mouth was and how sore his throat felt.

Fierfek.

If he was already feeling this bad it would be a Force-blessed miracle if it got any better.

Day 22:  Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

sap

Anakin reached out to Obi-Wan, both in the Force and with his flesh hand, but his limbs were moving like molasses. Now that he was paying more attention to it, it felt like his head had been drenched in something heavy, a weight that was dragging his eyes down and telling him to fall asleep, to drift off and to dream. Panic rose in his chest and stayed there as he wasn’t even able to push it down his training bond with his master.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin heard his own voice speak from far away. It felt like he was underwater and not, everything muffled and yet sharpened around him. It was confusing to wrap his head around, the sensation of polar opposites occurring at the same time in his own mind.

Day 23:  Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

no rest for the wicked

Obi-Wan swayed on his feet even as he tried his hardest to keep steady. It was more difficult with every passing moment. The need to collapse grew stronger, as did the pounding in his head and the need to yawn. He was only hearing every third sentence spoken around him and at this rate he’d be lucky if he remembered anything in a few minutes.

Day 24:  Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

the cold/the warmth, the void/the light

Voices, muffled behind the metal of his prison. Words he couldn’t make out and wasn’t sure he wanted to. The last time he’d heard voiced it hadn’t been pleasant- he’d been locked here, after all. He tried to move, either closer to or further from the voices, he wasn’t sure- but he couldn’t twitch a muscle. Instead he resigned himself to whatever his fate might be.

Day 25:  Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

smoke

Smile couldn’t exactly recall when he’d been hit. He remembered dropping onto the field behind General Skywalker and the others. He remembered firing his blaster at the droids, and avoiding the bolts fired back. He remembered the grunts of his brothers around him and the screams as they were hit, and most of all, he remembered the silence when they couldn’t speak anymore.

Day 26:  Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

blink

It was dark when Anakin entered the hall. Pitch-black except for the blue of his saber, held up in front of him. The kyber inside hummed, anticipating a fight, and Anakin tensed at every sound. Water dripping in the corners of the halls he walked, rodents scuttling in the background. Anything could be indicative of an incoming attack, and Anakin would not be deterred from rescuing his master.

Day 27:  Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

snowfall

He took everything in and tried to memorize every detail. Anakin’s lips, normally full and soft, were chapped and bleeding. His closed eyes covered their deep blue coloring. His skin, pale when it was once golden. Snow coated it all, even for the short time they’d been lying down.

Once, Obi-Wan might have brushed the flakes off but now he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open and breathe at the same time. Still he endured to watch over Anakin. He would not close his eyes until he physically couldn’t any longer.

The moment came much sooner than he would have preferred, but Obi-Wan was expecting it at the same time. With Anakin’s face clear in his mind, Obi-Wan drifted off into the cold.

Day 28:  Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Accidents Happen

It was an accident.

It was an accident.

It was an accident, Padmé repeated to herself as she covered her mouth in horror. It wasn’t her fault at all, it was just an accident- Somehow she couldn’t convince herself of that fact.

Day 29:  Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

stay safe

Ahsoka sighed as she squirmed in the bed she’d been forced into. It wasn’t comfortable no matter how she turned, and Ahsoka huffed as she collapsed back onto it. She couldn’t believe Anakin had sent her to the medbay, instead of letting her tag along on their mission. Ahsoka wanted to be with her men, fighting, instead of being trapped here in the medbay. She needed to protect them. Far too many of their men had died in this war already, and Ahsoka didn’t know how she could take the constant losses if this war lasted years, or even decades. No matter how safe Anakin promised that they would be, Ahsoka needed to be with them and not in the medbay.

Day 30:  Injury Reveal | Hiding an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

innocence died screaming

Shmi shoved down all of the hurt and anger rising in her chest again, and smiled. - Obi-Wan ignored the aching in his chest as he forced himself to calm slightly and smile, though no one could see it. - Anakin knew this was nothing that he couldn’t deal with on his own, and so, he smiled. - "I'm fine."

Day 31:  Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

spill my blood on this sand

Anakin knew how he looked in the center of the small square. It wasn’t anything unusual to see a slave tied up at the whipping post, to hear the crack of the whip, the cries of the slave, and the laughing of the masters. You never heard the slaves speak in the square. They prayed for the life of one of their own, averted and closed their eyes from the sight of their sibling tied to the post. Many of them knew what it was like to be tied there for punishment or for entertainment, and many knew that they might be next.

Anakin looked up to the sky, wishing that Leia the Great Dragon or one of the other goddesses might come and save him now. He prayed just like every other slave before him had, with all their hope and fear, until it shattered on the ground below him. Then he looked to the stained sand, and with his despair, he asked the gods to grant him the will to survive one more day.