#warrior and the lasat

[hayesflint]

Getting Kal all dressed up for Zeb is just good business for a cursed wardrobe, is it not?

from Warrior and the Lasat ch4 by @solsilverpine

[killermaxaroo8675309]

More fanart for @solsilverpine and @hayesflints “Warrior and The Lasat” on ao3!

Ignore the background, I was tired, ok?

[solsilverpine]

Hey everyone, I just realised I never ended up writing an actual post about this, but I wrote my first fan fic and I think its pretty neat!

It is, in its simplest form, a Kallus/Zeb beauty and the beast au. But it is also a lot more lol.

I mean, if you were disappointed when Beast transformed into an average dude at the end of the film, this fic is probably for you 💜🧡

Click here for chapter 2 or here for chapter one, if you haven't had a chance to read it yet.

All the art for this fic is done by the incredible @hayesflint who spent many hours giving me support and feedback and hugs over the past few months while we were working on this. 💜

Also massive thanks to @lost-in-derry and @sunatsubu for being such incredible beta readers. I know the chapters are big and I am so grateful you took the time to read it over and share your thoughts (and point out all my "then's" that should be "than's" 🧡)

This fic was part of a mini bang event on the kalluzeb discord @thehonorableones 💖

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Ah, here we are again. After sitting through all that jedi fell to the empire because they did things wrong rhetoric, I am now sitting through the mandalore fell to the empire because Satine weakened it with her weak weak pacifism or Bo weakened it with her mistakes-

I’m not playing this blame game. I get that this is somewhat invoked by Bo Katan herself with her multiple speeches about the self-defeating nature of mandalorian infighting, and it’s deeply resonant because of her own history of being part of the problem, and it’s deeply resonant because they are fighting amongst themselves now, however-

It’s noticeable that despite that, her brief description of what happened when they lost the war is curiously devoid of mandalorian infighting. The opposite even- when they fought the empire, they may have been the most united they’d been in a long time. They appear to have just... lost. They weren’t betrayed by a mandalorian in the end, they were betrayed by Moff not honoring their agreement. So there.

And as for Satine? I’m guessing a certain subset of fans have a vision of what Mandalore would have been like without her dastardly ways, that it would have been a shining military power capable of holding it’s own against anyone- that’s a pie in the sky, obviously. The reality is that Satine didn’t inherit a gloriously strong world she dismantled bit by bit, the mandalore she was chosen to lead was a severely depopulated and fractured fractured society that killed more than half it’s own in bloody civil war, a world moreover that lacked crucial resources like, for example, food, it’s ecosystem being long since ruined, reliant on imports and/or raiding. Her administration rebuilt those cities, that infrastructure, those schools, that trade, after war had left rubble and corpses in it’s wake. Mandalore without her most likely would have looked much like it did after she was murdered in a coup: infighting, not any less vulnerable to outside attack. We know ‘traditional’ warrior mandalorians could lose to the empire; that’s exactly what happened.

But it’s not like her Mandalore would have survived by virtue of being virtuous either! I mean, the jedi didn’t, the Lasat didn’t, the nightsisters didn’t, Alderaan didn’t, lots of people got wiped out. And anyway, that would rather defeat the purpose she was arguably introduced into the narrative for, back when mandalorians didn’t have quite such a whole mythos of their own, and her and mandalore’s role was mostly to do with being a foil to Obi Wan  (and anidala. many hats.) and the jedi. After all, the question of should the jedi have been neutral in the war, should they have been pacifists whose solutions were diplomatic only, etc, was a common one both in and out of universe, and the story, imo, answers it with: different story, same ending. Hence, Satine is murdered by the Sith, and there are clone troops in the streets of Mandalore when the republic graduates into empirehood. If Palpatine had fallen then, the empire not solidified, had things worked out, Mandalore might well have been able to rebuild from there, again.

Whose fatal flaws caused what in that tragedy were the same as for the rest of the galaxy. By a quirk of destiny, it all ended up resting on the shoulders of one Anakin Skywalker and his critically endangered decision making capabilities.

[illuminatedquill]

Ghost Stories 06

Feat. Ursa Wren + The Ghost crew

Story Summary: The Ghost lands on Krownest for a brief resupply and also to visit Sabine, who chose to remain with her family to help marshal the Mandalorian forces against Imperial rule on Mandalore. Ursa Wren, Sabine's mother, comes onboard the Ghost to formally introduce herself to her daughter's friends.

The bitter chill of Krownest's morning air greeted Ursa Wren as she stepped outside the fortress walls of her home. Even with a heating unit installed into her custom-made beskar armor, the cold still found a way to seep through. Despite having spent a lifetime living on the frigid planet that her ancestral clan called home, she never could get used to the freezing temperatures.

In the legends of Clan Wren, the world had once been a beautiful, thriving green planet, filled with lush forests and bountiful lakes. But then a great battle had taken place, between her ancestor, Princess Lenora, and a great witch that had come to steal something precious from her. The fight had scarred the planet's ecosystem, somehow plunging Krownest into an endless winter.

Krownest's unhospitable climate made it good for a few things, she admitted. It made Clan Wren a particularly formidable force, even among the fabled Mandalorian warrior caste. Surviving out here, in the frozen tundra was a rite of passage for any warrior on Krownest: you had to be resourceful, quick to adapt, and possess sheer force of will to battle against the elements.

There was also the added benefit of making any potential ground invasion a suicidal venture. Whoever was foolish enough to attempt found themselves wishing for the swift death by a Wren, instead of the slow freezing hell they would find themselves resigned to from the planet's unforgiving nature. Flying was also hazardous, since the erratic changes in weather could freeze fuel lines in vulnerable space craft or decrease visibility so drastically that all a pilot could see was a wall of white ice and sleet before slamming into a mountain side.

Finally, because of the constant blizzards and storms, it rendered most scanners commonly in use by the galaxy useless - which meant that Krownest was an excellent place to hide contraband, ranging from different types of medicines to various weapons of war, from prying eyes.

It was for this last reason that they had received visitors on this day. Sipping at a mug of freshly brewed caf, with a splash of honey added, Ursa stared at the old freighter docked in their landing bay below.

The Ghost. Its crew made of an eclectic team of rebels, comprised of a Twi'lek, two Jedi, a Lasat, a homicidal astromech unit and, formerly, her daughter, Sabine.

Her mouth twitched. These were the people who had housed her daughter - her heir - for the past several years. She had spent time with the two Jedi and, from what she could tell, they had earned her daughter's trust and loyalty.

Enough to defy me and the Empire, she thought with no small amount of bitterness.

She knew how suspicious Sabine could be towards people, which said volumes about how deeply she cared for the people on that ship if she would defend them against her own flesh and blood.

But, then again, she was the reason why Sabine was so slow to trust others in the first place.

Tristan, her youngest, appeared by her side. "Good morning, Mother," he murmured.

Ursa nodded at him. "Same to you. I take it Sabine is already onboard with her friends?" she asked.

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Never seen her move so fast. They hadn't even landed yet when she bolted from the war room."

Ursa felt her mouth twitch again. Is this jealousy? she wondered.

Tristan glanced at her. "Do you wish to meet them?"

Ursa sipped again at her caf, contemplating. "I'm not sure if that's wise. Sabine would most likely disapprove."

Her son turned to her fully, his expression intensely curious.

Ursa eyed him, feeling unnerved by his stare. "What?" she demanded.

"You're scared," he observed. "That's a first."

She almost spat out her caf. "Scared? Of what?"

Tristan pointed at the freighter. "Scared of them. Sabine's friends. You're afraid that they're really better than us."

She glared at him. "That is nonsense. Strike the thought from your mind, young man. We are Sabine's true family."

He shook his head sadly. "It's not like that, Mother. Not for Sabine. It's not 'us versus them' to her."

Ursa arched an imperious eyebrow at her son. "Oh? And what is the truth of it, then?"

Tristan gave her a pointed look. "You'd know that if you actually talked to her."

She glowered at him. "I am losing my patience," she growled.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "We're all family to Sabine," he said quietly. "All of us - and them, too. She wouldn't replace us anymore than she would with them."

Ursa fell quiet, his words twisting their way through her gut.

"There was no trade, Mother. Her family just got bigger, that's all," he pointed out.

She studied her youngest for a long moment - and then smiled. Reaching out with a hand, she fondly ruffled his hair. "When did you grow up to be so wise, my beautiful boy?" she asked.

He grinned at her in a disarmingly boyish manner, breaking through the normally serious outlook that was the default expression for Tristan. "Are you going to meet them?" he asked.

Ursa sighed. "I suppose so," she said reluctantly. "If anything, just to be a good host."

"You'll turn on that famous Clan Wren charm, I hope," he teased.

She swatted a hand at him in annoyance.

The hatch was closed when she arrived a few minutes later. Steeling herself to whatever encounters she was about to experience inside the ship, she knocked loudly on the steel frame.

For a few tense seconds, nothing mattered. Then a speaker blared with an unfamiliar voice: "Who's there?"

Ursa replied, "This is Ursa Wren, Sabine's mother. I wish to come inside, if that's alright."

Another pause. Then: "Uh, hang on just a second. I'll open the hatch."

She stepped back a few paces. The hatch opened with a pneumatic wheeze, lowering into a ramp for her to step into the freighter. Standing in the entrance was a large Lasat, dressed in a modified combat suit for his stature, staring at her with a curious expression.

Fo a few moments they just exchanged a look; two warriors, both from dying cultures, sizing each other up.

Ursa broke the silence first. "A pleasure to meet you, Garazeb Orrelios."

The Lasat blinked at her and then did something surprising - he bowed, if somewhat clumsily. It was a formal gesture of respect; one he clearly hadn't done in quite some time, she observed.

"I extend the same greeting to you, Lady Wren," Orrelios replied.

She studied him some more. "Sabine told me you were once a captain for your people's Royal Guard."

"That is correct, Countess," confirmed Orrelios. "I am familiar with royalty."

Ursa smiled. "I am not royalty. My title is simply an inheritance. I am no Queen."

"But you bear yourself with as much regality and grace as any royal subject," Orrelios observed. "And you have done much to earn the title several times over, despite the title being inherited."

She blinked. "Did Sabine talk about me?"

The Lasat shook his head. "No. But I see it in the way she conducts herself. Your daughter wears her surname with pride and steel, just like her mother."

She was touched. The Lasat had a rough appearance, but he spoke with no small amount of heart and authenticity. It wasn't hard to see why Sabine regarded him so highly.

Ursa bowed to him in return. "May I come aboard, Captain?"

"You may," he replied. "And please - call me Zeb."

Zeb, as Ursa now called him, gave her a brief tour of the freighter. She was surprised at how roomy it was, despite the sheer number of supplies crammed inside. The Lasat rarely had to duck down to enter a hallway or room, and walked with the ease of someone who was comfortable with their accommodations. Ursa rarely travelled on ships, preferring the commonly used Fang fighters that were synonymous with Mandalorian culture as a vehicle of transport.

When she first saw the ship at a distance some time ago, her first reaction was to be appalled that her daughter called such a place home for some time. Now, looking around at all the different customizations and obvious care taken into the ship's interior, she began to realize that Sabine might have felt more at home here than back at the fortress of Clan Wren.

How many hallways had she walked down only to spot a doodle on a wall? Sabine's artwork popped up everywhere she looked. On Krownest, her daughter had kept her art kept within the pages of a sketchbook only.

These friends, Ursa began to realize, have not only physically returned my daughter to me. They have also brought her back to herself.

Finally, they came to the communal room. Stepping inside, she saw two figures sitting at a table: one was the familiar face of Kanan Jarrus, one of the Jedi that had accompanied Sabine when she first returned home. The other was a green-skinned Twi'lek woman, similar in age to Jarrus, wearing an orange flight uniform that had seen its fair share of usage.

Jarrus had his arm draped around the Twi'lek's shoulders, his head reclined as though dozing. The Twi'lek - Hera Syndulla, Ursa now recalled - was concentrating on a data-pad, reading intently what was on the screen.

As they entered the room, the Jedi sat up - his partially masked face turned in their direction. "Zeb," he said cautiously. "You've brought a guest."

Hera looked up. Ursa was taken aback at how blue those eyes of hers were - it felt like they were piercing right through her.

"Hello," replied Ursa. "We've met before, Master Jedi."

Jarrus nodded respectfully towards her. "I remember, Countess. This is the captain of our modest little crew - Hera Syndulla."

She extended her hand, which Syndulla grasped firmly. Ursa felt her respect towards the Twi'lek rise several more notches at the strength in her grip. There's steel in her, she remarked.

"Pleasure to meet you at last," Syndulla said politely. "I see where Sabine gets . . . well, everything."

Ursa snorted. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

The Twi'lek's face split into a warm smile. "A little bit of both. Are you here for her? I can call her up, if you like."

She paused for a moment, thinking about what she should say.

Finally, she simply said, "I just wanted to say thank you. For Sabine."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jarrus smile a little. Syndulla looked surprised and asked, "For Sabine? Why?"

"Everyone here on this ship . . . you restored her to herself. I thought I had lost my daughter forever," Ursa replied, fighting to keep the quiver from her voice. "Not just in a physical sense, but in who she was before everything went wrong."

Syndulla shared a look with Jarrus. Next to her, Zeb scratched idly at his head. Ursa heard a loud sniff from his direction.

"Sabine has inherited much from you, Ursa," Jarrus said firmly. "We may have helped Sabine find her way back to you, but it's only because she had the strength to persevere through whatever challenges the galaxy threw at her. And that incredible strength comes from you."

"And there were quite a lot of challenges," Zeb agreed. "Feels like it was practically every week, in fact."

"Families are complicated," Syndulla added. "Believe me. I know."

Ursa said wryly, "Our family is certainly no exception to that. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to you all for giving Sabine a home. A place where she can be herself."

"You all talk with her so easily," she said. "I wish I knew how to do that."

Jarrus shared a look with Syndulla, a faint smile playing on both their faces. "Well," Jarrus said, "it helps if you talk to her."

Ursa frowned. "I do talk with her," she replied.

"Not the way Sabine tells it," Zeb pointed out. "You talk at her. That's different."

She thought about it. "Oh," was all she said.

Syndulla interjected, "Although, with Sabine, it is difficult to hold a conversation with her at times. Especially when she's upset."

"That happens a lot when we talk," Ursa replied dryly.

Jarrus chuckled. "We've had our fair share of that, too."

"How do you get her to speak openly then?"

"How do we get her to lower her guard, you mean?" asked Syndulla.

Ursa nodded.

Syndulla smiled. "Lower your own, first."

Ursa paused outside the door of her daughter's room; inside she could hear a pair of voices, loud enough to be heard through the metal.

One of them was certainly Sabine - and the other one was . . .

She leaned in close, straining to listen.

" . . . long have you had these bandaged like this, goober?" That was Sabine.

"Uh. A few days, I think." This voice belonged to Ezra Bridger - the young Jedi who was close to her daughter.

"You're supposed to change out the bandages," said her daughter, sounding annoyed. Annoyed . . . and worried.

Ursa narrowed her eyes, thinking.

"Oh. Right," came the hesitant reply. "Anyway, how are things with your family?"

"They're fine, Ezra," said Sabine impatiently. "And don't change the subject. How did you get hurt? Those Jedi senses of yours getting rusty?"

"Stormtrooper snuck up behind me during a firefight. I'm . . . I'm still getting used to you not being there to have my back anymore," Bridger replied quietly.

"Oh," was all her daughter said.

There was an uncomfortable pause. "I didn't mean it like that, Sabine," Bridger said hastily. "I meant - "

"I know what you meant," replied her daughter quietly. "It's okay."

Ursa, entranced by what she was hearing from her daughter's voice, leaned in closer to better hear the conversation -

The door slid open.

She almost fell straight onto her face, catching her balance at the last second.

Ursa looked up to see the two of them look horror-struck at her sudden presence, sitting close together on the bottom bunk of a two-bed configuration. Sabine, staring at her with wide eyes, exclaimed, "Mother!"

Bridger, on the other hand, abruptly stood up, banging his head on the top bed's underside. He yelped with pain, clutching at the top of his head.

It was then that Ursa immediately noticed that the young man was shirtless. A medical bandage, presumably applied recently by her daughter, was visible on his upper arm.

A-ha, she thought.

Straightening up quickly, Ursa said, "Hello, Sabine."

"W - what are you doing here?" Sabine sputtered. Her eyes were flitting nervously between her and Bridger.

"Just came to formally introduce myself to your friends," Ursa replied.

Bridger, to his credit, recovered with haste. Standing ramrod straight, a lump on his head, he stuck out his hand. "Hello, Mrs. Wren!" he said in a squeaky voice. "It's a privilege to meet you again."

Ursa stared at the young man, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why are you shirtless in my daughter's room?"

She glanced at Sabine. "This is your room, correct? That is what the others told me."

Bridger took a small side-step to position himself between Ursa and her daughter. Despite the situation, a smile threatened to crack through her stern facade. The boy was brave, she had to give him that.

"It is, Mrs. Wren - "

"Countess Wren," she corrected.

"Countess Wren," continued Bridger, his face coloring to an alarming shade of red. "Yes, this is Sabine's room. I was just - uh - we were just - you have to understand, I'm not usually shirtless when I'm alone with Sabine in her - her room."

It was like watching a train wreck. Bridger stumbled through the final words of his statement, his eyes widening with embarrassment as he realized in real time how what was spilling out of his mouth did not help clarify the situation at all.

Amused, Ursa let the silence hang thickly after his words. "Why are you not shirtless in your own room, then?" she asked, her voice whisper soft.

The young Jedi turned to look at Sabine, who had buried her face into her hands. He would not find help there, it was clear.

With a loud gulp, he looked back at Ursa. "This isn't what it, uh, looks like," he said lamely. "I mean, your daughter and I - we're just friends."

"Indeed," observed Ursa. She glanced at Sabine, who still was hiding her face. "Friends who seem comfortable enough to be semi-naked with one another."

"Yes," said Bridger, not picking up on the sarcasm. He looked relieved. "And this isn't even the worst Sabine has seen because one time I fell into a thorn bush and it was all over my legs, so she's seen way more - "

Sabine's face finally snapped up. "Ezra! Please, stop making it worse for yourself and just get out."

The young man froze at her daughter's voice, blinked several times in quick succession, and then quickly acquiesced to her command. Grabbing his shirt, he scampered out.

Leaving Ursa alone with her daughter. Sabine let out an exasperated sigh and laid back onto the bed.

Ursa took in the sight of her daughter's bedroom, drinking in the colorful art displayed all over the walls. "He's certainly a handful," she commented, finally allowing a smile.

Sabine snorted. "I take it that he won't be strangled then?" she asked.

"Not today, no. I was listening outside. I know you were tending to his wounds."

Her daughter peered up at her. "You're not upset? Really?"

Ursa shrugged and sat down next to her. "He's your friend. You care about him. And I'm grateful to him for bringing you back to me."

Sabine sat up and looked at her thoughtfully. "So am I," she said.

"Do you miss him?" Ursa asked suddenly.

Sabine looked away. "Yeah," she admitted. "I miss him. I miss everybody on the Ghost."

Ursa studied her. "You could go back to them," she said quietly. "If you wanted to."

Her daughter's face snapped back to hers, eyes wide. She could see the gears turning behind those eyes, considering. Ursa saw a conflicting array of emotions warring for control in Sabine's expression.

Finally, Sabine shook her head. "Someday, I'll go back," she answered. "But my place is with you. I've been running away for too long."

Ursa reached out and enveloped her daughter into a hug. Sabine froze and then melted into her embrace. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.

"I should have said this before," whispered Ursa, "but thank you for coming back, cyare. Despite all that has happened between us."

Sabine squeezed her tightly. "We are family, Mother. I will always come when you call."

Ursa smiled and then released Sabine from her grasp to look at her.

My how she's grown into a beautiful young woman, she thought. How much have I missed with my stubborn pride.

Blinking away the tears, Ursa sought to change the subject. "So, you and Bridger. You're really just friends?"

Sabine's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, but her expression remained neutral. "Yeah. Been that way for a while now."

"I noticed the wound was located on the upper part of his arm."

Her daughter frowned. " Yes. Why?"

Ursa gave Sabine a sly look. "Doesn't seem necessary to remove his whole shirt for that, I would think."

Now her daughter's cheeks were definitely a rosier shade of pink. She cast her eyes down and shrugged. "I was just, uh, being thorough. Ezra's clumsy with medical stuff. I wanted to ensure he didn't miss any other wounds."

"Uh-huh," said Ursa. "Sure."

Sabine looked at her, expression defiant. "What?" she demanded.

Ursa just grinned and ruffled her daughter's hair fondly.

[nicki0kaye]

random Kallus hc inspired by someone else's post #2

man he's gotta hate that he lost his bo-rifle to fucking Thrawn

like so the moral of the Honorable Ones to me was Kallus realizing he has nothing of value in his life--he has TWO personal items to his name; this fuckin glow rock and his bo-rifle which he has just learned is his by right. Regardless of what he did to Lasan, regardless of all the awful reasons he should never be accepted by any of his enemies, that fucking bo-rifle is his and no Honor Guard of Lasan can argue otherwise. There are a lot of reasons he turns on the Empire, but this is where it starts. The realization his life is so small and so empty, and he just limped back to it. Why? Why is this life worth living? And with more research, it stops being a selfish desire to ditch and becomes an informed hatred of the Empire, BUT

lets go back to that kernel of rebellion. Kallus' life is small and empty. He's got a Rock and Bo-Rifle. That's all that defines him outside his identity as a ISB officer.

He just acquired the Rock. He's been living with bo-rifle as his single defining trait for maybe a decade at this point. It's an extension of his beef with Lasat in general, which started on Onderon when one blew up his first Big Boy Mission. It makes sense he'd fixate on such a traumatic event but it's not JUST that. You don't get to have personal hobbies or a sense of fashion or really any kind of identity within the Empire outside who you personally want to fuck up. Kallus chose the Lasat and got fucking spiteful about it, which led him to the Siege of Lasan, where he won his bo-rifle.

but like, it's more than that. It isn't just hatred--if it were, I don't think Zeb would have gotten to him. I think that Kallus has had a buried respect for the Lasat for a long time, if only because of how much time and effort it took to win and then become proficient with the bo-rifle. Then there's the layer of it being the only true outlet for identity he's allowed. THEN there's the fact the bo-rifles are a Force weapon. They've got kyber crystals inside them. And I personally subscribe to the idea that everyone can sense the Force, thus be guided by the Force, it's just that not everyone can recognize what is intuition/one's own emotions and what is the Force, nevermind having an ability to influence other shit with the Force.

What I'm trying to say is I wanna believe Kallus bonded with his bo-rifle in a cosmic way. He is the Warrior, hunting the future; the Force always had plans for his ass and saw that a Force-conductive weapon made its way into his hands, that he then spent years becoming deadly with. That fucking weapon is connected to his soul.

and he lost it to Thrawn.

Thrawn didn't beat him in a fight while Kallus was armed with his bo-rifle, but he super beat his ass in a fight. Even if Kallus could argue he didn't earn the bo-rifle, Kallus couldn't retrieve it before having to gtfo. It's still somewhere on Thrawn's stupid ship--my assumption is that Thrawn goes and adds it to his collection of stolen artwork.

Regardless, Kallus doesn't have it anymore. This thing he poured what little identity he was allowed to maintain, years of hard work and practice and countless battles where he relied on it to keep him alive as his primary weapon, nevermind a Force connection, anyone would become attached to a weapon after years of service. This reminder of Lasan, this piece of history, its fucking gone now.

I don't think he'd think he's allowed to mourn that, considering all he's done, but you can't logic away your feelings, and now he's with a group of ppl who actively find that kind of coping pretty fucking unhealthy. At some point he's gonna have to process what that weapon meant to him and its not gonna be pretty.

imo, he gets a tat of it on the forearm of his dominant hand. He'd think about it for a long time but only go through with it after finally discussing all his mixed up feelings with Zeb, who would super approve of him paying his respects to a sacred fuckin weapon this way. It was his, by right, by soul, by will of the Ashla.

[never-ending-fanfic]

How did I sleep on the fact that the name Alexsandr means both the defender of people AND WARRIOR

And that's he's literally THE WARRIOR in the Lasat prophecy?!

[kanerallels]

Finally, I have a fic worth posting for @jacensyndullaweek! (although I do have one thing that I'm gonna end up posting late that I want to share)

Prompt: Culture/Heritage

Rating: G

Read here on AO3!!

1. Sabine

“Are you sure Ezra’s gonna be okay with this?” Jacen frowned at Sabine as they headed into the cockpit of the New Dawn.

“Rule number one of art as a Mandalorian,” Sabine said. “Never ask. Just do. Unless it’s Hera’s room. Then you ask. Besides, the Dawn needs a little brightening up. No ship should be entirely gray.”

The boy wavered for another second, then grinned. “Okay, cool! Where are we starting?”

“That’s more like it.” Sabine paused, turning in a circle. “That wall,” she said, pointing. “You start there, and I’ll start on the other side.”

“What should I paint?” Jacen asked as she passed him the box full of small finger paint cans she’d bought just for this— it was a good place to start for a beginner.

Pulling out her paint guns, Sabine said, “Whatever you want. If you don’t know, start with a feeling. Or something you know. Just don’t hesitate. When you’re doing graffiti, you need to be confident. Got it?”

Jacen nodded, his eight-year-old face screwed up into a serious expression as he pulled out green and blue paint. “I got it.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

2. Zeb

“Okay,” Hera said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Zeb recognized this expression— she’d worn it about a thousand times while lecturing him and Ezra back in the day. “Run it past me one more time. How in the name of the Force did you break your arm, Jacen?”

Wincing, Zeb said, “It was an accident, I swear.”

“It was!” Jacen agreed earnestly, struggling to push himself upright in the hospital bed and wincing slightly. Hera pressed her lips into a straight line— never a good sign.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Kanan offered from next to Hera. His expression was serene, and he brushed a gentle palm against Hera’s arm, which seemed to calm her a little bit.

“Right,” Zeb said. “So, I was talking to the kid about some of the old sports they had back on Lasan.”

“And there was this one where the greatest warriors would jump from rock spire to rock spire, show off their climbing skills,” Jacen said, his eyes gleaming. “So I asked Uncle Zeb to show me—”

“—and he asked to try it out—”

“—and I fell,” Jacen concluded.

Throwing her hands in the air, Hera said, “And you didn’t even think about the fact that Jacen could get hurt doing that?”

“Well, Lasat cubs usually didn’t,” Zeb offered. “I guess I forgot that humans have more fragile bones. No offense.”

Kanan let out a choking noise that Zeb immediately knew was a snort of laughter, and hastily disguised it as a cough. Hera shot him a sideways glare, but her expression softened a few seconds later as she sighed.

“Thank you for trying to teach Jacen, but you do need to be careful. Next time, maybe start with something a little easier? Or make sure Kanan or Ezra are there to catch him?”

“Absolutely,” Zeb agreed. 

As Hera turned to talk to the approaching doctor, Jacen leaned towards Zeb. “Can we try it again when my arm gets better?” he whispered.

“Only if you get better at not falling,” Zeb whispered back. “I don’t want your parents to skin me alive.”

“Deal!”

3. Kanan

“Hey, Dad?”

Kanan lifted his head, pulled out of his meditation trance by his son’s voice. Tracking him to the doorway to his and Hera’s room, he waved for him to come in as he said, “What’s going on, kiddo?”

He heard Jacen move into the room and drop down into a similar posture in front of him. “I’m doing this school project— we’re doing family trees,” he explained. “And I need your help.”

Kanan chuckled. “With this family, I’m not surprised. Where’d you get tripped up? Miss an aunt or uncle?”

“Nah,” Jacen said, his matching grin clear in his voice. “Grandparents, actually. I got Grandpa Cham and Grandma Eleni on Mom’s side, but I don’t really know any on your side.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Kanan said, “Well, you and I are in the same boat there, actually. I never knew my biological parents.”

“Okay— so should I just leave it blank?”

Kanan frowned, stroking his beard. “You could,” he said slowly, turning the question over in his mind. It might have been easier just to leave it that way. But the point of these family trees— he assumed— were that the kids didn’t forget where and who they’d come from. The people who’d shaped their lives before those lives had even really begun. “Let me show you something,” he told Jacen, getting to his feet.

He knew the layout of the room well by this time, and it was a matter of ease to step over to the shelf nearby and pull down one of the holodisks stacked there. Turning it on, he let it rest in his palm and held it out to Jacen. “What do you see?”

“Um, two people— a man and a woman. Looks like they’re posing for a picture,” Jacen said. “The woman has braids, and she’s laughing. The guy’s more serious, but he’s smiling a little. He’s taller and bald, looks like he has darker skin than the woman.” He paused, then said, “They’re both wearing Jedi robes. Are these—”

“The woman is my master, Depa Billaba,” Kanan said, turning off the holodisk. “And the man is her master, Mace Windu. A friend recovered this holo for me a year or two ago. It’s the only thing I have left of them.” Reaching out, he pressed it into Jacen’s hand. “They are as close to family as I ever had.”

Jacen was silent for a moment, and Kanan waited, knowing his son was thinking. “Thanks for showing me, Dad,” he finally said.

“Any time, kiddo.”

4. Ezra

“Why are we going here again?”

Ezra glanced at Jacen, who was bouncing on his heels with impatience. “I thought you said we were going to do Jedi stuff,” the fifteen year old pointed out.

“We are going to,” Ezra said truthfully. “We’re just making a stop first.” Looking both ways, he started across the street, keeping one eye on Jacen as he followed him. The kid had finally outgrown his habit of forgetting to look before he leapt— mostly. At the very least, he looked both ways before he crossed the street now.

He was still willing to throw himself headfirst into situations, though, not unlike both of his parents. That included Jedi training, and Ezra knew that he should be just as excited as Jacen was for this.

And he was, really. He was just also pretty sure Kanan had chosen wrong, and that his old master should be training Jacen himself. 

But that wasn’t the point. Right now wasn’t actually about that. Right now was about visiting somewhere he hadn’t been since he’d gotten back from the Unknown Regions, and showing Jacen a new piece of Lothal.

Turning a corner, he spotted the old warehouse. Even just the outside looked different than it had in the years during the war— no guards, and the door was wide open.

He looked at Jacen. “Did your mom and dad ever tell you about this place?” When the boy shook his head, Ezra explained, “During the war, this was where the main black market congregated, particularly around Life Day. I used to come here all the time— mainly when I was by myself, but I came with Kanan and the others a couple times.”

Starting towards the entrance, he continued, “But Lothal doesn’t really need a black market any more— so now it’s just a regular one. One of Lothal’s hidden treasures. I thought you should see it.”

They stopped at the entrance together, and Ezra took in the familiar sights. He recognized some faces— the elderly owner of the stall selling woven blankets, the Gotal who pretended not to notice when he’d stolen a few kebabs every now and then— and noticed others missing. 

The war had changed everything, but they were putting it back together, slowly but surely.

He looked at Jacen, who was taking in the place with wide eyes. “So. Lunch, then training?”

“Sounds good,” the boy said with a grin.

5. Hera

“And you’re sure you’re ready for this?” Hera checked as she, Kanan, and Jacen headed towards the small building awaiting them.

Her son gave her a grin. “Mom, we’ve talked about this like twenty times now. I’m seventeen— I’m ready. You got your tattoos way younger than this.”

Wincing at the memory of the needle’s sting, Hera said, “I know. That’s why I’m checking. I don’t want you to do it just because someone said you couldn’t, like I did. It was terrifying—”

“And you were like eight,” Jacen pointed out. “Of course that would be terrifying. But trust me— I want to do this. I already got Dad’s looks, and I want to honor your side, too.”

Kanan, who’d been silent thus far, spoke up. “He’s right, Hera. Besides, he’s almost eighteen. Even if you put your foot down, he’d only be delaying it for a couple months.”

Letting out a sigh, Hera said, “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Nope!” Jacen said cheerfully. “Besides, you let Dad get the tattoos.”

“Your father is a full grown man,” Hera said. “And incredibly stubborn, I might add.”

Kanan let out a snort. “I think we all know who the stubborn one is in this relationship, Captain Hera.”

Grabbing the door handle, Jacen said, “Yeah, I know better than to get involved in this argument. Come on— Ivri’s already inside!”

Hera followed his nod to where Jacen’s friend, the half-Mirialan boy with a perpetual smile, was waiting for them next to the Twi’leki tattoo artist. “Alright,” she said reluctantly.

“Go ahead, Jacen,” Kanan told him, catching hold of Hera's arm. “Your mom and I will catch up with you in a minute. Don’t choose anything obscene or too embarrassing while we’re gone, okay?”

Grinning, Jacen said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As he ducked inside, the door swinging shut behind him, Kanan lifted an eyebrow at Hera. “What are the odds of him listening to that?”

“Well he has your genes, so about fifty-fifty.”

“Harsh.” Kanan paused, then said, “You okay about this?”

Unable to hold back a wry smile, Hera said, “You know me well, love. But… yeah, I am. Mostly. It’s just…” she looked through the window where Jacen and his friend were chatting with the Twi’lek. “Our little boy is growing up,” she said with a sigh. “It’s strange.”

“You’re telling me,” Kanan said with a sigh. “At least he’s less likely to shoot himself into the Unknown Regions than the last one is.”

Hera snorted with amusement. “He’d better be, or we’ll be having words.”

“I believe it.” Offering her his arm, Kanan said, “Shall we?”

Taking a deep breath, Hera looped her arm around his. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She let him lead her into the tattoo parlor, trying not to think about just how much her son was growing up.

We’re proud of him, though, she thought with a twinge. And he’s still our son. 

+1. Trill

(set a few weeks before the last chapter of Disproving The Love At First Sight Theory)

Jacen sensed it as soon as Trill woke up. Generally speaking, he wasn’t terribly skilled at sensing living beings— not the way his dad or sister were, and definitely not the way Ezra was. His master was one with the living Force in a way Jacen never had been.

But this didn’t seem to be true for Trill, for whatever reason. Jacen could always sense it when she woke up, and could track her pretty easily throughout the ship. It was like he was attuned to her, more than he was to anyone else.

Sometimes he wondered why that was, but since he was currently living in close quarters with not only her, but also the galaxy’s nosiest Kalleran, he decided not to spend too much time on it.

It was about ten minutes after she woke up that she made her way into the New Dawn’s kitchen. Stifling a yawn, she said, “Morning— what’s that smell?”

“Good morning,” Jacen said cheerfully. “Remember that mysterious package I… picked up on Cantonica yesterday?”

Trill arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean the one that you stole from the hotel and smuggled out under your poncho?”

“That’s the one,” Jacen said. “But the people there are corrupt and tried to kill us like four times, so it doesn’t count. Anyways— behold! Our new waffle maker!”

He flourished a hand at the maker, which stood on the counter, emanating the delicious smell of cooking waffles. Trill frowned at it, then directed the expression at Jacen. “You stole a waffle maker?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing here,” Jacen told her. “Remember, they tried to kill us. But also, yeah. Now we can have waffles for breakfast!”

Settling at the table, Trill swept her loose hair out of her eyes, and Jacen tried to pretend like his gaze hadn’t followed the movement, and lingered for just a moment. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s so important about waffles?”

The iron beeped, and Jacen turned towards it. Rolling up his sleeves, he flipped it open and started to remove the waffle with a fork, responding to Trill’s question as he did.

“It’s a family tradition. My dad makes the best waffles in the galaxy— Uncle Zeb makes the second best, tied with me. We always used to eat them whenever my mom would get back from a dangerous mission, or before Ezra and I would leave, or any special occasion like that.” Maneuvering the waffle onto a plate, he slid it towards Trill. “And I guess… I wanted to share that with you. If you’re interested.”

She looked surprised, in that way she always did whenever Jacen said something like this. It was the kind of surprise that made him think maybe, just maybe… she’d stick around. 

For a minute, Trill held his gaze, then offered him a smile. “I— I am. Thank you.”

Don’t read into it, Jacen ordered himself, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat at her smile. Aloud, he said, “Good. Cause I have a feeling Kasmir’s gonna be here soon, and he’ll be hungry. So you’d better get started on that waffle.”

“Will do,” Trill said, hopping up to grab a fork. Turning back to his work, Jacen felt himself grinning. Starting out a day with waffles and Trill? It really couldn’t get much better than that.

[starwarsultimateseriesproject]

star wars rebel zero

star wars rebel zero, the set in the jedi purge after the clone wars, the prequel of star wars rebel, the origin of the cast of star wars rebel before it change their live forever, art style: rebel 3d animation art style, rated: the teen rated.

Ezra Bridger origin. the street rat orphan boy who become the force user after he lost his parent without a trace.

Kanan Jarrus origin. the jedi survivor of the order 66 outbreak who learn the way of the survival as he face the battle droids & the clone troopers & the tk troopers of the galactic empire to survive the deadly attack.

Hera Syndulla origin. the skilled pilot who was protective under her older brother in the galactic empire era.

Sabine Wren origin. the mandalorians girl who take revenge against the galactic empire after she & her own family were force to join the galactic empire as she has enough of the galactic empire rules as she quit the galactic empire to followed her own family footstep.

Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios origin. the rouge Lasat honor guard who hate the galactic empire after he lost his master & the royal family to the galactic empire as he must survive the deadly path as the rouge Lasat honor guard.

Rhinord origin. the genius robot who help the people who suffer in the galactic empire era after he see the galactic empire mistreated the people.

Piplock origin. the owl bird who want the galactic empire pay for what they take the land from him & his people.

Cheetaizken origin. the teenager appear cheetah chicken cyborg being who rebellious against the galactic empire who ruin the galactic life of the galactic galaxy.

Chopper origin. the veteran astromech droid who served Hera Syndulla's older brother as he watched over his master & his master's little sister in the galactic empire era.

Dawn origin. the rouge honorable claw force temple security force guard commander who survive the order 66 outbreak after he lost his team to the rouge clone troopers who follow the order 66 as he was force to join the galactic empire to become the imperial agent after he think the jedi order are no longer served the galaxy anymore as he agree with the imperial agents & the grand inquisitor & the other inquisitors to steal the holocron from the galactic republic record base after they agree with the gangsters.

Wildash origin. the dark red/red Rigor Gigoran wild soldier who rise up with his warrior to against the galactic empire for hurt the galactic wild planet.

Peachery origin. light blue Kaw Kwi peaceful lover who escape from the galactic empire & the galactic hunters after her specie were hardly beaten & target & killed by them as she must survive the deadly part of the galaxy as the prey drone reptile animals.

Nightaire origin. the younger appear rebellion bio nightfire who trying to survive the dangerous path after his friends were killed by the battle droid at the end of the clone wars to begin of the galactic empire as he must face the dangerous way across the galaxy.

Planala origin. the plant peaceful peacemaker who never forgive the galactic empire for killing the peaceful nature plant tree as she will protect the peaceful nature plant tree from the galactic empire.

Deptharacord origin. the vengeance depth force temple security force guard commander who look angry after he lost his team to the rouge clone troopers who follow the order 66 as he had to hide in the shadow of the depth water as the vengeance soldier commander.

Star Wars Rebel Zero

Experience the untold origins of the beloved characters from Star Wars Rebels, set in the tumultuous aftermath of the Clone Wars. Each character embarks on a journey that shapes their destiny, leading to their pivotal roles in the rebellion against the Galactic Empire.

Ezra Bridger Origin

A street rat orphan boy who discovers his connection to the Force after losing his parents mysteriously.

Kanan Jarrus Origin

A Jedi survivor of Order 66 who learns the art of survival amidst the chaos of battle, facing off against deadly foes like battle droids and clone troopers.

Hera Syndulla Origin

A skilled pilot protective of her older brother during the oppressive rule of the Galactic Empire.

Sabine Wren Origin

A Mandalorian girl seeking revenge against the Empire after being forced to join, determined to forge her own path.

Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios Origin

A rogue Lasat honor guard driven by hatred for the Empire after losing his master and royal family to their tyranny.

Rhinord Origin

A genius robot dedicated to helping those suffering under the Empire's oppression.

Piplock Origin

An owl bird seeking justice against the Empire for taking land from his people.

Cheetaizken Origin

A rebellious teenage cyborg cheetah chicken challenging the Empire's authority.

Chopper Origin

A veteran astromech droid serving Hera Syndulla's older brother, witnessing the Empire's cruelty firsthand.

Dawn Origin

A rogue claw-force temple security force guard commander turned Imperial agent, disillusioned with the Jedi Order's role in the galaxy.

Wildash Origin

A dark Rigor Gigoran warrior leading his people in rebellion against the Empire's destruction of their planet.

Peachery Origin

A Kaw Kwi seeking refuge from the Empire's persecution of her peaceful species.

Nightaire Origin

A bio nightfire survivor of the Clone Wars, navigating a dangerous galaxy after the loss of his friends.

Planala Origin

A peaceful peacemaker determined to protect nature from the Empire's destructive forces.

Deptharacord Origin

A vengeful depth force temple security force guard commander, hiding in the shadows and plotting against the Empire.

[nimata-beroya]

For day 1 of @bahrynfestival I'm sharing an idea for a fic that I want to write someday, and fulfills the prompt of "In another life".

So here it goes. Imagine this:

Everything happens pretty much the same except for a small, but very important detail. What if Zeb was not only a captain of the Honor Guard, but also of the Royal Family of Lasan. Being a distant relative of the queen (like third cousin or something), he was so down in the line of succession, that in his youth, he never imagined he could sit on the throne. Neither did he have the desire to do so. The only way he could do that, however, was if his entire family die… and then the Siege of Lasan happened.

He still escaped his home planet and eventually joined the Ghost Crew. He never said a word about his royal status. But the day the crew rescued Chava and Gron, he's forced to face the fact that he's the sovereign of his people when Chava started babbling about the prophecy of "The king, the warrior, and the fool". He managed to keep the fact hidden by admitting that he had been an Honor Guard, but taking advantage of his unwanted position, he forbade Chava and Gron to tell the others anything else. Chava was not happy about it but recognized he wasn't ready for taking the responsibility as king, so she kept her mouth shut, for a while. Besides, the prophecy came true, Lira San was found.

Every time she brought the subject up in the later years, Zeb always had the excuse of being fighting the Empire; that it was his way to serve and protect his people. Not entirely untrue, but once the war is over, it wasn't a good excuse anymore.

You might be wondering where was Kallus in all of this, well, he still was a bastard ISB agent: he and Zeb still got stranded on Bahryn; he still became Fulcrum, and eventually defected from the Empire. And of course, they both were stupidly in love with each other, pining each other endlessly, making everyone around them wonder when they'd kiss already. It happened on Endor, during the celebrations after the second Death Star blew up.

The first months after that were a true honeymoon, until Zeb started to be a ball of constant stress, and Kallus asked him what was going on. It took some serious encouragement, but Zeb finally confesses that the group of Lasan survivors along with some Lira San natives wanted to reclaim Lasan.

At first, Kallus think Zeb is upset because they'll be apart for a while, which he'd understand, but when Zeb he'd have to stay in Lasan because he's their king...

"Excuse me, you're their what?!"

Zeb asks Kallus to go with him, because he can't do it alone, he doesn't know how to rule, he doesn't want to. Kallus refuses at first. He's terrified of offending other survivors with his presence. It was already hard to accept Zeb's forgiveness, but others wouldn't be so gracious. But in the end (and with the help of Chava, using the prophecy as an argument) Kallus goes with Zeb.

A few Lasats weren't too happy about his presence, but for the most part, they saw Kallus' help to restore Lasan as his atonement for his participation in the siege. He was giving them back part of what he took away from them.

During all this, Chava had a side scheming going on. She never told Zeb and Kallus that there was a second part to the prophecy, which said that the King and Warrior would lead their people to a golden age. As part of their coronation rituals for Zeb, whoever was destined to become the consort to the sovereign would find a branch of a specific, very special tree that later would become the royal scepter. She left those finer details out of the explanation when she asked Kallus to help her find a branch for Zeb.

Zeb was surprised and flustered when he saw Kallus coming with the branch in hand knowing its significance, especially because there a bunch of people around who also knew.

"You didn't tell him, did ya?" he said to Chava, who had the smugest grin.

"Tell me what?" Kallus said, scared that he did something awful.

Zeb explained and ended up asking him to mate with him, awkwardly because it's in front of everyone.

So that's how Alexsandr Kallus became Prince Consort to King Garazeb Orrelios of Lasan. And both restored and led Lasan to a golden age, just like the prophecy said.

The End.

[hayesflint]

the boys meet cute goes a little different in our beauty and the beast au hehe. kal falls of a cliff and busted his leg instead.

art from chapter one of Warrior and the Lasat by @solsilverpine for Kalluzeb Minibang 2024! More art from this AU here!

[killermaxaroo8675309]

Fanart inspired by @hayesflint and @solsilverpine beauty and the beast au; Warrior and the Lasat

Go check it out guys it’s seriously so good-

[solsilverpine]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

tagged by @hayesflint and @sunatsubu

Anyone that wants to do this can, tag me if ya do 👉😎👉

I have two fic's i'm working on right now so y'all can have a sneaky peak at both.

Warrior and the Lasat Ch 4

‘Zeb you need to do something about your Imperial,’ Kanan muttered as Zeb came back inside. ‘Look if this is about Hondo-’ ‘No what happened to… you know what never mind, just pick me up and take me to the library. It’ll be easier if I just show you.’

And under the cut a line from spicey lil one shot I've been working on about Kallus and Zeb using their retirement to try new things. (inspired by this drawing Hayes did a while ago)

‘I could spend the next decade praising your d*** with a devotion usually reserved for those who worship higher powers and still not convey everything…and that was before I saw you in lingerie. Now I might never have another productive day in my life. All those times people joked that I left the empire for your d*** weren’t accurate exactly but…they also weren't untrue.’ ‘Huh, look’s like I owe several people money next time we go back and visit- Oh, oh!’

[x-reader-things]

Hi! Could I send in a request for Sabine wren (platonic) with the prompt “you shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn't me.” Where the reader is her younger sibling, but not much of a fighter; but during a rescue of Reader, Sabine and them are pinned down and she has to leave to try get the empire off of the reader. Rest can be up to you!

Thank you for requesting!

Don’t really have too much to say for this one. Took a while cause I got a few requests all at once, got overwhelmed as I usually do, and needed a bit to figure out what I was gonna write. But still, Tysm for your request!! <3333

I hope you enjoy- :DDD

Prompt lists can be reached here. Scroll down to the bottom and you’ll see them- :DDD added a new one recently too!!

“Understand, mir’osik?”

Sabine Wren x Gn!reader [platonic]

Summary ; in which you’re reluctant to use one of Sabine’s weapons to protect yourself.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; small bits of typical canonical violence in Star Wars. Nothing too descriptive.

Definitions ; “Mir’osik” - Mando’a for “Dung for brains”

Word Count ; 643

——————————————————————

"You shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn't me."

You blinked, looking at the blaster usually kept in one of the holsters your older sister had strapped to her waist daily. You aren't a fighter by any means, despite being born and raised mandolorian. You knew damn well that you can not, in any way, trust yourself with a blaster. Let alone to protect yourself, too.

You weren’t a warrior. You were more so a writer, like your father an Artist. He liked to tell you that you were an ‘artist with words’, since that’s what writing was for you. It was your art. Your thoughts and imaginations scoured onto pages and pages of holographic words, hoping that at least a few people would enjoy them.

Which is… coincidentally what got you into this mess.

Writing a story that had anti-imperial themes.

Lovely.

"Sabine, no - i don't even know how to use this thing!”, you told her, staring at the troopers coming down the hallway from around her shoulder. You gulped down a lump in your throat, fear coming up your spine in waves.

Sabine swiftly turns away from you, holding her other blaster up in one hand and practically tearing down the few bucket heads that got too close for her liking. You flinched, staring up at your older sister. You’ve never seen her so angry before.

Fierce, too.

She’s always been protective of both you and Tristan, even as the middle child between yourself and your older brother. Force help those who hurt her family. You forgot what that even looked like, in all honesty.

With everything that happened when she left the Imperial Academy, and then your family being put on constant surveillance because she had the (honestly inspiring) gall to stand up against what the empire was doing with her designs all those years ago. Not to mention your own father being held in captivity.

There was a lot going on.

You honestly weren’t prepared in the slightest to see her like this.

She slipped her helmet on. “I’ll be back.”, she told you, sternly pointing at you. “Stay here, and remember what I said. Shoot anyone that isn’t me. Just aim the best you can and pull the trigger. Understand mir'osik?”

You let out a breath at the word, a strange sense of comfort found within the lines of the insult. With a nod from you, she nodded back at you and turned away fully, her mandalorian-style jetpack facing you.

“Spectre-5 to Spectres 6 and 4, I found them—“, she turned her head a little, glancing at you while raising her hand up. It was to push the button that opened and closed the door. “Bring the Phantom II around back. We’re a little… stuck. But I can handle it.”

She scoffed at a muffled voice, one that you couldn’t make out exactly. It sounded older, though. Gruff. Like a growl, almost. Probably that purple Lasat you saw with her in wanted portraits from a while ago. Part of her other family (that you’re very grateful for).

“Yes, I can, Zeb.” Another voice. A bit younger than her. If you could guess, around your age. Maybe. “Oh please.”

You knew that tone of voice.

Still as stubborn and sarcastic as ever.

“Like I’d ever let a single one of those bucket heads get close to them. Just watch me. I’ll show them what ‘disrespecting an empire’ really means—“

She pressed the button.

The door wooshed closed, a hiss and a small click notifying you that the door was closed shut.

You took a deep breath.

Waited for the blaster fire and Sabine’s footsteps to fall away.

Held up her blaster the best you could, trying to mirror the way she held hers both now and before you two were separated.

Breathed out slowly.

And took aim.

[martianbugsbunny]

Don’t You Know It’s Because He Loves You? (A Kalluzeb Fic)

Hey lovies! Also had this sitting in my drafts, for no reason other than I am allergic to tagging Tumblr posts, but in light of a certain cameo which shall remain unnamed (even if context has probably given it away here tbh) I decided to just go ahead and tag it so I could post it. This lil thing was hexpecially fun (and yes, I am also an EAH fan) because I splashed in a bit of Lasat culture headcanon, which is one of the Kalluzeb tropes ever. Read on and enjoy!

Kallus threw his jacket at the wall, flexing his bloody bicep as pain shot through the muscles. “Why did he do that?” he demanded, of nobody in particular. “He didn’t throw anyone else aside like that.” He swallowed, tears and bitterness choking him. “He still doesn’t trust me.”

Ezra stared at Kallus in surprise. “I thought you knew,” he said. His tone was sincere, but Kallus still searched it—and his expression—for mockery.

“Knew what?” he sighed.

Ezra’s face shifted, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to go on, or if he even should. “Alright. Well…okay. Okay, the first thing is, Zeb didn’t throw you out of the way on that mission because he didn’t trust you to get the job done right. He did it to protect you.”

“He doesn’t do that.”

“Not for other people, no.”

Kallus bit back a sharp comment. “I’m still not seeing the point,” he said tersely.

“On Lasan, he was a member of the Honor Guard. You probably already know that. In the Guard, it was typical not to interfere with another person’s part in battle. It was dishonorable. It showed that you didn’t respect that person as a warrior.”

“I feel so much better,” Kallus grumbled. He sat down, his head in his hands. His sleeve was stiff with dried blood; he was acutely aware of the pain, now that his battle adrenaline was fading, but too tired to visit the medic just yet.

“He doesn’t protect me, or Kanan, or Sabine like that, because he’s following the traditions that dictated the first decades of his life. But on Lasan, there was also a rule that you could—Zeb sometimes says ‘should’—protect the person you loved. It’s a two-way thing, too; it sort of means you trust someone enough to put your life in their hands, which was the highest honor possible in the Honor Guard.  It doesn’t make total sense to me, I’ll admit, but—Kallus, are you alright?”

At first he thought his head was spinning from blood loss. Maybe it was, how should he know?

Then he realized what it really was. The words were sinking in and he was lightheaded from joy. Fear. More joy.

He got up and left Ezra standing in the cargo bay, confused. Kallus wanted to laugh aloud, but was already running and didn’t have the breath to spare.

“Garazeb!”

He shouted the name the second he got within eyesight of Zeb. (Not that it was hard to be within eyesight of him; he was seven feet tall, at least.)

“Kal?” Zeb sounded confused…Kallus couldn’t blame him. He would’ve been confused, too.

“Why did you protect me?” he asked, out of breath. “Tell me why.”

Zeb’s bright green eyes flickered. He reached out to touch Kallus’ arm. “You should go to the medical center,” he said quietly.

“You’re protecting me again,” Kallus replied with equal softness. “Please tell me it’s true.”

“Who tried to explain it?” Zeb asked, his pointed ears flattened against his head.

“Ezra,” Kallus said, trying to keep the triumph from his voice. Zeb growled, rolling his eyes. “Garazeb?”

Zeb rubbed one clawed hand up and down his opposite arm, nervous or uncomfortable—Kallus wasn’t quite sure which. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. “First: he is going to pay for saying anything,” Zeb grumbled. “And second…yeah. The kid’s right. I protected you—I always protect you—because I’m…in love with you.”

Kallus finally gave in to the urge and laughed. Zeb stepped back; Kallus realized in that moment Zeb probably hadn’t heard him really laugh before. “I promise I’m not laughing at you,” Kallus assured him. “I’m just—I’m thrilled,” he said happily, shrugging his shoulders. Zeb’s ears perked up, and his eyes widened a bit.

“I love you too, Garazeb. Your life is safe in my care.”

[creativealmonds]

What if….the clones weren’t human?

So I saw this fic awhile ago and can’t find it so I’m doing this instead.

In the fandom there’s this headcanon/fanon idea that the clones are just slightly different. Not in a way that is noticeable to natborns but in subtle ways. Like, most clones are around 6ft~ or 1.8m~ with 2 inches or 5 cm in either direction. So you’ve got clones that are “little brothers” because they’re like 5’10 when all their batchmates and squad mates are 6ft or over.

I love, think it’s really cool. I also like the idea that some clones were genetically altered for specific tasks. Like scouts with cat like eye sight, Kit Fisto’s troops having bigger lungs and are generally more dense weight wise. Command batches just being a CT+, ie taller, stronger, more durable, faster.

That’s cool but the Star Wars galaxy is FILLED with so many different species. There had to be more bounty hunters that met the requirements. A togruta is a better hunter than a human any day, nautolan or mon calimari would be better as a SCUBA division. Trandoshans or lasats are known for being excellent warriors and hunters.

There’s just so much room for potential. There could be human Jango clones but also togruta, nautolan, twi-lek, wookiee, lasats and just about any species you can find in the wiki or make up. The sky’s the limit!

And think of the angst. We all known most of the Jedi saw the clones as people and we see that a majority of the galaxy is made up of human and human adjacent beings. How would togruta Jedi take seeing little togruta children and not having the culture they had. Just. The possibilities!