#I can never get past what happened at the second battle of Geonosis

[clu-ven]

calling it, barriss will meet luminara, angst time

PLSSSSSSS THEY NEED TO MEET UP!!! And honestly likeeee despite all Barriss has done, if it came down to her vs Luminara, I think I would still be on Barriss' side lol

[gffa]

Honestly, I don’t know.  Both of these characters did love each other very much, but they’re coming at this with a whole lot of baggage. For Anakin:  Despite that Padme never gave him any reason to doubt her, he still couldn’t stop fearing that she was going to betray him.  She made it very plain that she wasn’t interested in Clovis as anything other than a friend, that she had important reasons for working with him, but Anakin time and again kept boiling it down to her having romantic feelings for someone else.

Padme did everything “right” with Anakin, she always treated him with sympathy and softness, no matter what.  She poured all of her love into him, she got swept up in the romance with him just as much as he did many a time, yet he still cannot trust her. It’s the same on Mustafar--she has given every indication that she wants to be with him, wants to have a family with him, wants to leave with him, but he still turns on her and thinks she’s plotting behind his back when Obi-Wan reveals himself.

He’s willing to turn on her with the slightest indication without giving her a chance to explain. She says, “No!  I love you!” and he screams back that she’s a liar and starts to Force-choke her.

This is what Anakin is bringing to this relationship--yes, he’s high on the dark side and this is a really bad critical moment, but that’s what the dark side does.  And further canon (especially Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith and Vader Immortal) really hammer home that he’s unwilling to face his own mistakes about this, that he was responsible, that the dark side twisted him into this. Would he be willing to come back if Padme were still alive, would he be willing to leave the dark side behind for a second chance at a relationship with her? I honestly can’t say.  I suspect not, because as much as he loved her, he didn’t really want to live a simple, quiet life.  He desperately wanted something bigger and grander, he wanted to rule an Empire with her, he wanted to remake the galaxy into what he wanted.  He wanted a shadow of her, this idea of her, not the woman who actually said no to him.

Then there’s the other side of this relationship. For Padme:  She is someone who does try to put her foot down, to set boundaries.  We see that she does this really well in Attack of the Clones, where she tells him, “Stop looking at me like that, it makes me uncomfortable.” But then in that same movie, when he confesses that he’s killed the Tusken women and children, she doesn’t express any horror at this, only comforting him, telling him that being angry is being human.

She sees someone who is in incredible pain, it’s completely understandable, but it also shows that she’s willing to overlook his actions for how sad he was about his mother’s death. By the end of the movie, despite knowing him for about a week, she’s marrying him.  Yes, the circumstances on Geonosis are intense, which will put intense feelings into a boiler pot and make them even more intense, but she’s still known him like a week.  Padme is very much someone who gets swept up in romance and how she feels empathy for Anakin, she aches on his behalf. It’s the same with the Rush Clovis arc in season 6, where he beats the shit out of Clovis because he thought Padme was kissing him and she says they need to take a break.  By the end of the arc, intense circumstances (Clovis’ death, her own almost death) have her setting all that aside again to be with him, to exchange romantic holo-messages with him, to daydream about having their baby together on Naboo. She has seen what Anakin does when he has dreams of someone dying, like with his mother.  He directly says that these dreams are like those and he won’t let Padme die, but she says they’re just dreams. And when Anakin murders the Jedi younglings after having turned to the dark side, Padme’s first response is angry disbelief.

She goes to Mustafar to try to talk him back, but he’s off the deep end, so she backs away, saying, “You’re not the person I married, you’ve become this person I can’t follow any longer.” She absolutely does mean this--but she’s meant it before, too.  And she’s come back before, too.  Even her final words about Anakin are, “There’s still good in him.” because Padme cannot maintain those boundaries. So, I’m not sure how this set-up would necessarily even work, if Padme even could set down the boundary of “turn back to the light or we’re done” and keep it in a way that would actually force Anakin to change.  Because the dark side isn’t just anger, it’s also pain and suffering--which Padme is incredibly vulnerable to in Anakin. If she somehow could maintain that boundary, it’s possible that Anakin would come back, but I wouldn’t be willing to bet money on it.  Anakin has always loved the idea of her just as much as he loves her for herself, so much of their relationship was about his feelings for her, that nothing was more important that the way he felt about her.  And when she goes against what he thinks she should be doing, goes against his feelings that he’s giving her, he gets furious and lashes out.  He’s absolutely willing to physically assault her if he gets angry enough and that trigger is a hair trigger at times. And here’s the other thing:  I think Anakin loved Obi-Wan just as much as he loved Padme, though, in different ways (even if they’re both romantic or if one’s romantic and one’s platonic, they’re still different), he knew Obi-Wan loved him and he knew Obi-Wan would accept him back if he turned away from the dark side.  He knew if he went to Obi-Wan, even after everything, and asked for his help, Obi-Wan would listen to him, would still love him.

In the vision he has in Dark Lord of the Sith, the Force/the kyber crystal shows him this and Anakin’s eyes are blue again, he’s able to make his choice freely, and he rejects it. He rejects coming back from the dark side.  Now, his relationship with Obi-Wan and Padme are different, he can’t break down Obi-Wan’s boundaries the way he can Padme’s, nor does he have the same physical power over him that he does over Padme, the fight on Mustafar illustrates that.  Obi-Wan gives Anakin every chance, the entire battle is written to be like a married couple having a fight where Obi-Wan is trying to give him time to calm down, as well as Obi-Wan will not let this happen, even though he desperately didn’t want it to come down to this. Anakin refused to come back, though.  Once the dark side got its hooks in, once he was willing to murder the Jedi and the Jedi children, once he was willing to help burn the Republic to the ground, he couldn’t go back.  He knew what he’d done was wrong, he was never going to be able to accept someone who knew what he’d done, knew him and what that really meant. That’s why Ahsoka could never have brought him back, either.  Because Anakin hated himself for what he’d done so deeply that he couldn’t accept anyone who knew him, that’s why it could only have been Luke or Leia who made him have his final selfless moment, someone that represented the future, rather than his past.

"Just imagine this person that’s so wrapped up in their hatred for themself as much as external hate, that he just can’t deal with it.  He needs to destroy [Ahsoka].  So there isn’t empathy for her.  I’ve never thought that she could be something that would turn him back from the dark side, because that would completely rob Luke.  That would make it seem like that story was just one possiblity of many, when I think that Luke or Leia are the only possibility of their father’s redemption.”  --Dave Filoni Anakin knew these people that he loved would accept him back, knew they loved him, but he couldn’t face it.  He tries to bring Padme back in Dark Lord of the Sith, when he’s fresh off his turn, but even then it’s just a reflection of himself that he’s chasing after, not really her.  In Vader Immortal he’s also trying to bring her back, but he’s chasing a shadow of her, not really her.  It’s not about her, it’s not about what she would want, it’s not about the horror she would experience at what he’d done in her name (murdering children, murdering entire planets), it’s not about how she would react.  It’s about his feelings for her.  And that’s not something that would bring him back from the dark side. Padme is different in that he’s used to eventually breaking down her boundaries, so he feels a possessiveness towards her that he can’t have for Obi-Wan or Ahsoka (who assert their boundaries and keep them), but ultimately if Padme asserted those same boundaries, if she refused to take him back unless he turned away from the dark side, he would do the same thing he did to her on Mustafar, the same thing he did to Obi-Wan, the same thing he did to Ahsoka--try to kill them, because he cannot stand to look at what he’s done and work through it, he has to keep justifying it or he’ll fall apart and he refuses to do so.

[bedlamsbard]

Part 12 of the other side AU concept, the second epilogue sequence!  At least one more sequence after this before I either start revising or just keep on going as concept writing.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

About 4.6K below the break.

***

Humidity made the rock of the cliff face slick against his fingers, forcing him to pay extra attention as he made his way up it.  He clung to the seemingly sheer rock with his fingers and boot-toes stuck into grips too small for most humans to manage for more than a few meters, relying on the Force to keep him from falling.  Heights had never bothered him, but he still didn’t look over his shoulder at the vast spread of jungle beneath him; he needed all his focus for the climb itself.

“Sure,” Ezra Bridger muttered, the words so soft that they were closer to being a thought than voiced, “ninety-nine percent of the time it’s ‘sit in this cell until we can think of something better to do with you,’ but it’s that one percent of ‘you’re a Jedi, please do this incredibly dangerous thing that no stormtrooper can pull off’ that gets you.”

The unfamiliar weight of both the sniper rifle and the pack slung across his back made the climb a little more awkward than he would have preferred, but he didn’t mind it.  Going anywhere without a weapon right now would be a bad idea, not to mention the fact that he was still a little impressed that Captain Pellaeon had given him one at all.  More than one, as it happened; he had a blaster pistol holstered at his hip and a couple of vibroknives secreted elsewhere around his person.  Pellaeon didn’t know about the blades.

Despite the fact that the humidity was so thick that the growing fog was just short of being rain, Ezra couldn’t resent his current position.  If he fell – and it wouldn’t take much – then not only would it be an ignominious end, but it was likely that no one back at Chimaera Camp would even notice his absence for a few days.  If they did, Pellaeon would probably assume that he had made a break for it.  It was an option that Ezra had considered and discarded given their current circumstance, but he was keeping it open if those circumstances happened to change.  He knew roughly where they were in relation to the Chimaera’s crash site, but he was also aware that there was nothing space-worthy left on the star destroyer. Aside from the ships back at Chimaera Camp, there was only one other option to get offworld, and Ezra wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

It felt good to have his hands on the living stone of the planet, to feel fresh air – and yes, the fog – on his bare skin, to lick his lips and taste the slight tang of the moisture of a new world.  He had spent nearly all of the previous six years on the Chimaera; the Force was everywhere, but it was different in space than it was planetside.  After spending his entire life on Lothal, the months the Ghost had spent with Phoenix Squadron in deep space had been a shock to him.  It had been at least a little preparation for all those years on the Chimaera.

This wasn’t Lothal, but he was still attuned to the Living Force and he could still feel the thread of wrongness that ran through it here.  As far as they knew, this planet didn’t have a name, just the designation it had been given when they entered the star system; if it had an indigenous sentient species, they hadn’t run into them yet.  Ezra had no way of knowing what the planet should have felt like in the Force, but he could tell that there was something badly wrong here and getting worse by the day.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself up over the top of the cliff with a grunt and crouched there, breathing hard, then took out his water flask and drank sparingly.  The Chimaera’s scientists were monitoring the water in the stream that ran past Chimaera Camp and had found that its chemical content was changing by the day; Ezra had water purification tablets with him, but there was always the chance that whatever was leaching into the water table was wouldn’t be affected by the Imperial-issue tablets.

He put the flask back onto his pack and took the sniper rifle off his back, using the scope the same way he would have done a pair of macrobinoculars.  The scope was the reason he hadn’t brought a pair of macrobinoculars; if he had to he could remove it from the rifle to use on its own, and he might need the weapon.  While he had never been formally trained as a sniper the way that some of the stormtroopers and death troopers aboard the Chimaera had been, given the time needed to set up a sniper’s shot he could use the Force for nearly the same level of accuracy.  If not, well, a sniper rifle was still a rifle – this one was reconfigurable, so Ezra could always break it down into an assault rifle or a heavy blaster pistol.  While most death troopers used the BlasTech E11-D and DLT-19D that were standard issue, they often had the liberty to carry other weapons if desired, which was how Ezra had gotten his hands on the A280-CFE that was commonly used in the Rebel Alliance.  

The view from the scope showed him only the seemingly impenetrable tree cover of the jungle he had come through.  Ezra knew that there were a number of clearings in it, some large enough for a light cruiser like the Scylla or the Charybdis to put down in – and in fact the Seventh Fleet’s remaining cruisers were parked in two such – but even with the scope they were impossible to see.  It had a range of five kilometers on a clear day, which this wasn’t; a heavy blanket of fog mixed with the tall native trees of the planet, turning the view beneath him into a grayish-green sea.  With a sigh, he straightened up again.  He kept the rifle in the curve of his arm rather than returning it to his back, wanting to have it quickly to hand if he needed it; the few seconds it would take to swing it around could cost him his life.

The jungle began again a few meters from the edge of the cliff.  Ezra eyed it dubiously; having spent his entire life to the age of fifteen in grasslands he still found forests both disconcerting and distasteful. When he stretched out with the Force, though, he could feel the life within it – confused by the changes being wrought upon the planet, but still present.  The wildlife, he knew, would be his first hint of real trouble.

Right now it told him that there was nothing to be concerned with except for the planet’s native dangers. Still, Ezra hesitated, looking at the edge of the jungle and fighting down his nerves.  Annoyed by his own reluctance, he sank down into a tailor’s seat, resting the rifle across his knees.  He fell quickly and easily into a light meditative trance; he had years of practice, after all.  He didn’t let his attention roll out the way he had done when he had meditated the previous night at Chimaera Camp, but turned it inwards instead.  He just wanted a few minutes to clear his head.

He was, he realized, afraid.

The fight on the Chimaera had been one thing, as had the handful of other skirmishes he had been involved in over the years, but this was the first time in more than six years that Ezra had been completely on his own, whether on an alien worlds or back on the Chimaera.  If he had died then, at least Grand Admiral Thrawn and the other Imperials would have known, assuming the whole Chimaera hadn’t been destroyed at the same time.  There was no real difference in being out here than there was being back with the Imperials, who had more reason to want him dead than anything else on this world and had come close a few times; Thrawn had twice had his own men shot over two such incidents.  Ezra had scars from the attempt that had come closest to succeeding.  On this world only Captain Pellaeon and a handful of other acquaintances – not quite friends – amongst the Chimaera’s complement really cared if he lived or died.  Some days Ezra wasn’t entirely sure that he himself did.

Kanan had lived like this for years, Ezra reminded himself, and often in worse situations than this one after his entire world had died.  So had Zeb.  Ezra could do no less than either of them, and refused to fail them.

It hadn’t been left to him to make any decisions one way or another for a long time now – not the kind of decisions that actually mattered.  He had been volunteered for this particular mission rather than volunteered himself, but hadn’t bothered to argue it even though others had.  It was something to do, at least.

Years ago he had asked Captain Rex about the Clone Wars, which Kanan only ever talked about when forced or when he had been drinking, which wasn’t very often.  The old clone had gone quiet, thinking about the question, and then said slowly, “When you go into battle – whether it’s a major push like Geonosis or a five man black ops mission – you go in understanding you’re already dead.  You can’t be afraid of dying.  You accept it – you take it inside of you.”

Rex hadn’t said whether or not he had learned that from the Jedi he had served with, but Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.  He let that knowledge fill him now, the reminder that in the Force he was both living and dead at once, and even if he was still drawing breath now, it was a state that could change at any point.  There was no point in being afraid of the unknown: what would happen would happen as the Force willed it.  All he could do was the best that he knew how.

He opened his eyes and got to his feet, tucking the rifle against his shoulder as he went into the jungle.

It was slow going. The undergrowth seemed to be thicker up here than it was in the lowlands around Chimaera Camp.  The tree cover was so thick that it blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving Ezra to pick his way through the jungle in greenish gloom, trying not to trip over creepers on the forest floor, which had leaf litter so thick that in places he sank into it up to his ankles, or hang himself on the vines that passed from tree to tree.  Many of the tree trunks were so wide around that it would have taken a dozen men holding hands to encircle them.  Nor was it silent.  Animals – he saw avians and snakes, along with some kind of small red-scaled reptile and the quick flash of a furry mammalian tail vanishing up a tree – called out constantly.  They weren’t much bothered by his passage, as animals usually weren’t, though more than once he heard them go quiet in response to some native predator passing through.  He sensed disquiet among them even as they went about their normal routines; they were as aware of the changes happening on the planet’s surface as he was.  More so; this was their home.

Mid-afternoon brought the downpour that Ezra had learned to expect after the past three days onworld. Rather than press on, he spent the time crouched on the upturned root of one massive tree, sheltering as best he could beneath leaves the size of his cell door back on the Chimaera.  The rain seemed to come down in sheets, like a solid wall of water despite the fact that by the time it reached him it should have been disrupted by the tree canopy. Ezra managed not to get drenched this time – the first day he had gone out to stand in it, to the horror and disgust of the sailors assigned to guard him.  Most members of the Imperial Navy hated and distrusted uncontrolled weather at best and planets entirely at worst.  This time getting soaked would be a hindrance – and besides, it wouldn’t particularly aid his already slow passage.  Ezra watched the rain fall from the dubious shelter of the tree and let his mind drift out in something that wasn’t quite a meditative trance – while most of the native wildlife had gone to shelter at the same time he had, it wasn’t a guarantee that the enemy would do so as well.

When the rain had passed and the sun had reappeared, Ezra recommenced his slow trek through the jungle. He hadn’t stayed completely dry in the downpour, but the scout trooper’s undersuit he wore was more or less waterproof; it still left him feeling uncomfortably like he had gone through a sanisteam in his clothes.  He paused twice to eat, the tasteless emergency rations that stormtroopers carried as a matter of course, and once to refill his water flask at a stream after he had tested the water with the Force and decided he didn’t need to use one of the water purification tablets.  By the time that dusk fell, casting the jungle into even further gloom, Ezra had, he guessed, advanced within a kilometer or two of his goal.

The advent of darkness slowed his progress even further.  He took out the night vision goggles he had gotten from the Chimaera’s death trooper captain – promoted from the ranks two years ago after the remaining death trooper officers had died – and put them on, blinking as the shadows of the jungle resolved into only moderately more penetrable shades of green.  While he had a glowrod, using it would be just as good as sending up a beacon, not something he wanted.  He could have passed through the jungle without needing to see at all, except that would leave him vulnerable to something he wouldn’t have thought possible six years earlier.

By the time he sensed the final setting of the sun sometime later, the jungle had been the next thing to pitch-black for more than an hour.  Ezra was silently arguing himself out of trying to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours when he felt the nearby animal life go silent, then recommence its noisy outcry.  The negation and recommencement of sound shifted in his awareness of the Living Force, and he swore wearily to himself.

Something was coming towards him.

He settled the rifle more closely against his shoulder and touched a finger to the night vision goggles, making certain that they were as firmly affixed to his face as possible. He had learned the hard way that what was coming left no trace in the Force – not of itself, at least.

Ezra could have gone up a tree, but he was city born and bred and could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had actually tried to climb a tree.  Even in this unfamiliar environment he felt far more comfortable on the ground that he would have perched on a branch – he was sure he could get up to one, but not positive that he could stay there, a hesitation he would never have had on a cliff edge or a high-rise.  He was absolutely certain that trying to fight on one would end with him flat on his back on the ground, and that was a best case scenario.

Instead he settled himself in the soldier’s stance he had learned from Rex, letting the rifle rest loosely against his shoulder as he let his awareness spread out.  Animals, frightened by the alien sight and scent of the intruders, fled their approach; plants flinched away from the heavy tread of feet.  Ezra felt them come closer and closer – a near-silent passage to anyone but a Jedi. The air felt close and heavy around him, the night sounds of the wildlife vanished into stillness or flight. Ezra let his mind fill with the blazing clarity of the Force, until in every way that mattered Ezra was the Force itself.  The Jedi were the sword hand of the Force, Kanan had said more than once; with or without a lightsaber Ezra was still a Jedi.

He fired even before he saw the flicker of movement in his night vision goggles.

The crack of the blaster shot broke the stillness of the night air, sparks flaring at the laser bolt struck armor it couldn’t penetrate. Ezra threw himself sideways, feeling the rush of air as the thrown thudbug just missed his previous position. He rolled and came up on one knee as he fired again, twice in quick unison, relying on instinct rather than the little his vision showed him.  He got one more shot off and then had to reverse his grip on the rifle, slamming it upwards two-handed to block the amphistaff blow aimed at his head.  Quick as the serpent it resembled, the amphistaff lost its staff form and lashed out, its jaws gaping wide.  Hissing, it spat poison at his eyes.

The night vision goggles cracked as the poison struck.  His vision blurring – knowing he had only seconds before they broke entirely or the poison dripped down onto his skin – Ezra thrust out with the Force.  The amphistaff’s bearer didn’t release the living weapon, but his arm and the amphistaff both swung wide, away from Ezra as he threw himself into a backflip, ripping the night vision goggles off as he did and letting them fall.

Darkness closed over him.

He pulled the rifle back to his shoulder and fired again; once more, sparks briefly illuminated his enemy as his shot struck uselessly off armor.  Then the warrior was on him; Ezra swung the rifle like a club, feeling it connect with his enemy’s skull.  Undaunted, the warrior lashed the amphistaff like a whip; the serpent slashed down across the barrel of the rifle, cutting the weapon  in two.

Ezra didn’t hesitate, just flung the remaining half of the rifle at his opponent even as he flung himself sideways again, avoiding the amphistaff’s attempt to get its teeth into his throat.  He twisted and came up with his blaster pistol, firing as fast as he could pull the trigger – a steady stream of blaster bolts, nearly all of which sparked uselessly off vonduun crab armor.  Only one penetrated between the joints of the armor, making his opponent grunt in pain.  His ears ringing from the blasterfire, Ezra thought he heard it echo oddly in the jungle, but he was already moving, grabbing one of his vibroknives with his left hand and slashing backhanded in the same motion.  With the Force behind it, the vibroknife cut through the amphistaff in the vulnerable place just below the head.  Halfway through the blade stopped, jammed against the creature’s seemingly indestructible internal structure.  It thrashed in the warrior’s hand.

It couldn’t cry out, but he could.  Ezra could neither understand the words nor sense the emotions that underlay them, but he released the vibroknife and got both hands on the grip of his blaster again, firing at the place he thought he had seen a vulnerable point between helmet and breast plate.

The blaster jammed.

Oh, karabast, Ezra thought – he didn’t have time to voice the words before his opponent’s free hand shot out and closed around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, armored fingers like durasteel cutting off his breath.  The blaster fell to the ground as he clawed at that implacable arm, fingers scrabbling over the plates of living armor that covered his opponent’s forearm.  He felt it twitch beneath his fingers, lending its strength to the enemy.

His opponent snarled something in his native language, his fingers tightening.  Ezra reached for the Force as his vision started to gray out, knowing that if he wasn’t dead yet then it was because the enemy intended to take him alive.  After enough suffering to make up for the death of his amphistaff.

Light flicked out like a whip, coiling around the warrior’s body.

Ezra had just enough time to feel astonishment before the brief flash of a jetpack’s repulsors heralded the being who slammed feet-first into the warrior, knocking him sideways. He dropped Ezra, turning to grapple with this new adversary as the glowing line of energized whipcord vanished. Ezra hit the ground, gasping for air but already reaching for another of his sheathed vibroblades.

Even now his enemy was absent from the Force, but the new arrival wasn’t.  Ezra didn’t bother to think, just drew his vibroknife, thumbed the switch on, and waited – with his amphistaff dead, or at least out of commission, the warrior was left with only whatever razorbugs or thudbugs he was carrying and his dagger-like coufee.  He heard the living weapon scrape against – or possibly through – what could only be beskar, and a grunt of surprise.  The brief burst of a short-distance repulsor sent the warrior stumbling back a step and Ezra struck in his moment of confusion, slamming his vibroknife up beneath the skirt plates of his armor to the vulnerable place on the inside of his thigh where most humanoids had a major vein.  He felt the weapon dig in and dragged it down as far as he could before the warrior cuffed him aside, sending Ezra flying to strike a tree.

He hit hard enough to black out for an instant, but was dragging himself upright as soon as he could, reaching for his fallen blaster through the Force.  The grip smacked into his palm hard enough to hopefully displace the jam and he raised it, aiming at the spot he thought the enemy was.

There was a blaster shot, not his, and in its flash he saw the warrior on his back in the undergrowth. It also illuminated the injured amphistaff making its way like a sidewinder through the leaf cover, with Ezra’s vibroknife still stuck into its neck.

Even as the flash faded Ezra fired.  His own shot wasn’t aimed at the creature, but at the hilt of the vibroknife, slamming the weapon those last few precious centimeters forward to sever head from body. Ezra heard it thrash briefly, dying, and then there was silence.

He would have liked nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week, but he braced himself against the tree with his free hand and kept the blaster in his other hand.  His head was pounding; he knew he’d have bruises the next time he looked, to go with the bruises he still had from the Chimaera’s final battle and crash.

“Who –”  He coughed as his abraded throat protested. “Who’s that?”

Light sprang into being, the thin artificial life of a glowrod illuminating the Mandalorian woman standing by the warrior’s corpse.  After four years living with one, Ezra was hardly going to forget that particular silhouette.  His gaze traversed the slopes of painted beskar armor, noting the fresh scars on it from the coufee blade before settling on the helmet before the woman reached up to remove it.

“Ezra?”

He stared.  Then he tried to take a step backwards and couldn’t, his shoulders already braced against the tree trunk.  His mind didn’t seem to want to come to terms with what was in front of him, even as he lowered the hand with the blaster in it.  He slumped back against the tree, letting it take more of his weight.

“Hey!”  She crossed the space between them with a few quick steps and grabbed his shoulder, her grip solidly human and real. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

Ezra reached up and closed his free hand around her forearm, staring into her face. “I’m not going to pass out,” he said. “They usually patrol in threes –”

“Yeah, we met the other two. They’re dead.  You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said, or tried to say, but was already folding up.  He sat heavily, belatedly holstering the pistol he was still holding. “You changed your hair,” he said inanely.

“Yeah, I do that,” Sabine Wren said. “So did you.”

Ezra touched a hand self-consciously to what remained of his hair – long on top and pulled into a tail wrapped with strips of thin leather, close cut at the sides, because he had spent the past six years with sailors and stormtroopers who thought a buzzcut was the height of fashion.  He stopped with his fingers hooked through a strip of leather, stared at Sabine, and felt himself start to shake. “You’re real,” he croaked, even though the Force had already told him the answer. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand still on his shoulder. “I’m really here.  We’re all really here.”

When he looked up again, he felt as much as saw them ghosting out of the shadows at the edge of the glowrod’s illumination like the spectres they had been named for.  Ezra was too tired and overwhelmed for further disbelief; he pushed himself to his feet with Sabine’s help and stumbled into Kanan’s arms.

“I felt –” he said shakily, his voice muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.  He fisted his hands hard against Kanan’s back, aware of how gloriously alive he felt. “– in the Force, I felt something change, six months ago.  I felt you come back.”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, his voice gentle. “Yeah, Ezra, it’s me.”

Hera put a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and Ezra turned into her embrace, then Zeb’s.  He was shaking so badly that Zeb had to help him to a seat on an upraised tree root, one hand folded over his shoulder as though he couldn’t bear to let Ezra out of his grasp.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t hallucinating – that he hadn’t been taken captive after all and this was some new torture.  Then he looked at Kanan’s calm white eyes and touched the Force again, gingerly, like prodding a sore tooth, and knew it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re going to explain that,” he said, a little wildly. “You were – I thought – I saw – I felt –”

“Yeah,” Kanan said again. “It’s a long story.”

Meaning not now.  Ezra took a shaky breath and leaned back into Zeb’s reassuring grip, watching Sabine crouch to inspect the fallen warrior.  She touched the scratches on her breast plate gingerly, then her eyes widened as a hand-size piece of beskar broke off in her hand – the coufee had cut nearly through it and the slight pressure of her touch had freed it. “What are these things?” she demanded.

Ezra sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Long story.”

“We saw the Chimaera,” Hera said, sitting down on his other side. She kept her blaster in her hand, resting across her knee, which under the circumstances Ezra thought was the wisest thing she could have done. “We were on our way to the rendezvous coordinates when Kanan sensed you, but we had to find somewhere safe to put down. Chopper’s with the Ghost about two kilometers away.”

Ezra rubbed his hand across his face.  “They’re from beyond the Unknown Regions – beyond our galaxy, maybe – and they’ve been making a push towards the Empire since it was still the Republic,” he said. “They’ve been tracking the Chimaera and the rest of the Seventh for months – years – and finally cornered her here. They’re warriors – shapers, they call themselves; everything they use is organic, alive – their armor, their weapons, their ships.”  He nodded at the warrior’s corpse and the dead amphistaff beside him.  “They’re called the Yuuzhan Vong.”

[crispyjenkins]

Jangobi?? Jango loses his mind over Obi-Wan fighting Jar’Kai style?

(sorry this took so long, i ended up doing a little more research than planned, and angst happened! because i somehow can’t not! because galidraan and jango’s background with komari vosa gives me feelings! this sort of isn’t what you asked for but hey! jango being protective over boba!

this got really long.)

  Of all the Jedi for the Order to send to rescue the Cathar younglings Jango’s been sharing his cell with for the past tenday, of kriffing course it’s Kenobi and that crazy foundling of his, rushing headfirst into the Bando Gora hideout like this particular sect hadn’t killed four Jedi masters before them.

  Between the roar of jetii’kad’e and blasterfire, Jango shoves the younglings behind himself, tucking them low to the ground as rock explodes over their heads. Blaster bolts ricochet off every wall, and Jango shouldn’t be surprised by jetiise incompetence, but it’s still incredible to him that Kenobi hasn’t lost hostages before in his recklessness. 

  His foundling sprints by their cell for a group of droids that stream through a hidden door, his padawan braid flapping behind him as he yells a very un-Jedi-like yell that startles one of the Cathar so badly they squeak. Jango looks helplessly to Kenobi to maybe  get his padawan under control, but any actual words die on his lips when he finds Kenobi through the battle smoke.

  He’d had half a hope of Kenobi maybe falling to the Chiss that had taken over the Bando Gora after Vosa, but Jango is instead treated to the frankly intimidating sight of the Jedi in half-complete clone armour, calmly fighting off both the Chiss and his Rodian second in command, with nothing but the blue ‘kad that Jango recognises from their battle on Kamino.

  Logically, Jango knows he barely held his ground against Kenobi all those months ago, and if he had wanted to kill Jango, he would have, but it’s something else entirely to witness that prowess from the sidelines like this. He seems almost lazy in his defense, easily blocking both vibroblade and blaster bolts as easy as breathing, and it occurs to Jango that he’s stalling, waiting for his foundling to finish off the droids so they can take down the Chiss and Rodian together. And then, it only takes four moves flat, to have the Rodian thrown into a wall and the Chiss stuck through the throat with Kenobi’s ’kad. 

  The silence returns as suddenly as it had left, and Jango strains his ears to hear if any more of the Bando Gora are thinking of making a stand, but the cellblock is quiet aside from the younglings’ whimpering and the padawan’s panting. 

  “Anakin, check the cells,” Kenobi finally says, expression a touch pained as he extinguishes his ‘saber and crouches next to the Chiss that Jango had never gotten the name of. The foundling, Anakin, pulls a key chip from his belt and rushes for the line of cell doors; it doesn’t take him long to realise that Jango’s is the only one occupied — by living bodies, anyways— and Jango carefully straightens, hoping to look as unintimidating as possible. He can either fight or run once he’s recognised, but while he’d like to believe the jetiise will take care of the Cathar in his stead, what sort of Mandalorian would he be if he trusted any Jedi with younglings.

  Anakin unlocks their cell as Kenobi rises from the Chiss’ body and Jango realises Anakin has never seen him without his helmet, so it isn’t until Kenobi joins him at the door that Jango is recognised.

  Kenobi freezes halfway into the cell, expression blank surprise as he takes in Jango’s too-long hair and ragged clothes, the new scar on his throat and the blood still on his tunic from Geonosis. Jango narrows his eyes, just before Kenobi whips his ‘kad back out and swings it to stop inches from the last ‘saber scar he’d received.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Kenobi snarls, face twisted into an unfathomable rage that Jango really doesn’t think he’s deserving of, and he worriedly takes half a step to the side to put himself between the Jedi and the younglings.

  Kenobi tracks the movement with fire in his eyes, but it’s his foundling that catches Jango’s attention from over Kenobi’s shoulder, quickly waving a hand in an aborting motion that’s clearly directed at Jango, which only adds to his confusion. Especially because Kenobi doesn’t look like he’s going to run him through, at least not in front of the younglings, but Jango also can’t remember the last time he’s had such anger directed at him. Not even Montross had visibly hated him this much.

  “Kenobi,” Jango says, deciding it’s as safe a response as he can give, but Anakin barely refrains from facepalming, and that snarl comes back to Kenobi’s lips. 

  “That’s what you have to say?” he asks, voice a deceptive calm that Jango doesn’t trust for a kriffing moment.

  He glares right back, hands raised just enough to look non-threatening. “To be fair,” Jango tries, “the last time I saw you, your friend was trying to kill me.”

  “Oof,” Anakin mutters, but Jango only realises why when Kenobi reels his free hand back to slam Jango right in the nose. 

  Now, Jango had killed six Jedi with his bare hands at Galidraan. He took Komari Vosa down with nothing but his blaster and his fists, and he sees Kenobi’s punch coming, if a little late, but he still manages to jerk backwards enough that Kenobi doesn’t break his nose.

  “Boba thought you were dead!” Kenobi snarls, which— What.

  The Cathar crowd around Jango’s legs with plaintive sounds, clearly not having learned Basic just yet, and Kenobi visibly forces himself back to calm, turning off his ‘saber as Jango holds his bleeding nose. Anakin steps forward with a kind smile and crouches down to be eye-level with the younglings, murmuring something in Catharese.

  But Jango can’t focus on them. Boba had survived the battle? The Jedi hadn’t killed him? “Bob’ika, he—” He has to swallow around the lump in his throat, and Kenobi visibly takes a mental step back. “He’s alive?”

  Anakin has managed to coax the younglings away from Jango’s legs, asking them questions and letting them cling to his robes, and Kenobi must have great trust in the boy to not be watching him at all. “You didn’t... You didn’t fake your death?” Kenobi asks slowly.

  “I didn’t what.”

  “Your body disappeared on Geonosis after Master Windu said you fell during the battle! We all thought he’d killed you.”

  Of kriffing course no one actually checked his corpse, or his unconscious body would never have been hauled off the battlefield with the droid scrap by a thrifty Geonosian with an eye on the chit the Bando Gora has had on him for the past decade. “I was kidnapped and sold as a bounty to the Bando Gora! Where the fuck is my son?” He gets right up in Kenobi’s face, and Kenobi doesn’t back down, though he perhaps looks as guilty as a Jedi can allow themselves to look. 

  “He’s safe, Fett,” he says, soft enough that the younglings and Anakin can ignore them. “Your backup credits and apartment have been more than enough to keep him afloat until now.”

  “And how the kriff do you know about any of that?”

  Kenobi furrows his brow in what appears genuine confusion, though Jango isn’t sure if he trusts that. “I went looking for him after the battle, of course; I wasn’t just going to let a child wander around a warzone when his father had been killed.”

  Jango growls, but doesn’t get the chance to demand what the kriff a Jedi thought he was doing trying to look after his kid, as an explosion sounds further into the complex and shakes the room. The Cathar squeal and cling to Anakin as he hurriedly gets to his feet, and Jango reluctantly steps away from Kenobi. 

  “That’ll be the others,” Anakin says, scooping the youngest Cathar into his arms. “Master, what do we do?”

  Kenobi looks between the younglings and Jango, and then back to Anakin. “Give me your ‘saber, padawan.”

  Anakin blinks, but then simply hands it over, as if that doesn’t go against everything Jango knows about jetii’kad’e. Gesturing to the other two younglings, Kenobi raises a brow at Jango with something that’s almost like a smile. 

  “Come now, Ser Fett,” Kenobi says as if they weren’t at each other’s throats just moments before, “you don’t expect me to let one of our rescued hostages fight drug-fueled bandits unarmed, do you?”

  “I’m not finished with you,” Jango warns, but crouches to let the last two younglings climb into his arms and settle on his hips. 

  “Well, by all means,” Kenobi returns with a little bow of his head, before he lights both lightsabers and gives them an experimental spin. The youngest Cathar coos excitedly, curling into Anakin’s chest at the green and blue glow, but it isn’t out of fear, and Kenobi smiles at them gently. “Alright, my men are waiting outside the complex, and we couldn’t get a proper lifesigns reading before we came in, so we don’t know how many Bando Gora members are left. Unless you have some insight...?”

  Jango grunts, letting one of the younglings pull on his longest curl. “We’ve only been here a tenday,” he says, “I haven’t had time to case their numbers.”

  “Then we’ll simply have to make do. Anakin, are you ready?”

  “As always, master!” Anakin chirps, falling into step behind Jango as Kenobi quickly leads them from the room. 

  The irony of another Jedi dual-wielding in a Bando Gora hideout is not lost on Jango, but these are not the ‘kad of a darjetii, and Komari Vosa had not moved with even half the grace Kenobi somehow manages in the tight quarters of the hallways. He cuts bandits down before they even get close to Jango or Anakin, and a sour taste rises in Jango’s throat that not a single one of them is a killing blow.

  Kriffing peace-keeping jettise.

  But then maybe the feeling is instead misplaced respect and awe at the way Kenobi switches effortlessly between reverse and standard grip, the fluidity of katas rote in muscle-memory, the concern in his glances back at Anakin and the younglings. It does something weird to Jango’s chest, imagining this man protecting Boba the last six months he’s been captive.

  When Jango later steals a cargo ship off the Negotiator, Kenobi watches him from a balcony with a little frown on his lips, as if he had expected better of him. If Kenobi intends to keep checking in on Boba, their paths are likely to cross again, and Jango is eager to disabuse him of that notion.

  He meets Kenobi’s eye as he steers the cargo ship out into space, and watches the frown slip into a smirk. Oh, he’s looking forward to it.  

Mando’a: jetii’kad’e — lightsabers, sin. jetii’kad (goodness me i could not figure out how or where to pluralise this. please suspend disbelief.)  jetiise — Jedi, sin. jetii darjetii — sith, lit. “no longer a Jedi” ’ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Request: Jango Fett x Jedi!Reader

Request by @sweeetteaa​: So have had this idea for a while now, but I suck at writing so hear me out: Jango Fett x reader, but the reader is a Jedi who goes to investigate Kamino with Obi-Wan and when she meets Jango - it’s love at first sight. And of course sassy Boba also loves her.

Jango Fett x reader

Word Count: 1825

Note: Obi-wan is on Kamino a LOT longer than he is in the movie because reasons

There were times when you thoroughly enjoyed your long-standing friendship with Obi-wan Kenobi. For example, any time he’d come to you ranting about whatever ridiculous situation Anakin had gotten them into; you almost always got a hearty laugh out of those instances.

This, however, was not one of those times.

Right now, you were rueing the day you’d decided to spar with this particular human because he’d dragged you along on his hunt for an apparently not-so-imaginary planet where you were currently getting an astoundingly confusing tour to show off an army of (admittedly quite attractive) clones made for the Republic.

You leveled your friend with a glare behind the tour guide's back and mouthed a harsh, “What the fuck?”

He just shrugged helplessly. His face smoothed back over into calm interest the instant the Kaminoan turned to glance at him. It never ceased to amaze you when he displayed that renowned ‘Negotiator’ facade.

Always one to be hands-on rather than to be lectured at, you spoke up, “You said they were highly trained for battle, yes?”

“Of course,” she replied breezily.

“Would it be possible for me to sit in on one of their drills? I’m somewhat of a tactician myself; I’d like to see how they perform in action. You and Obi-wan can keep viewing the process in the meantime.”

“Brilliant idea!” Obi-wan agreed, obviously seeing your plan of gathering more information.

The Kaminoan nodded. “Your timing is most convenient,” she informed you. “There is a simulation scheduled a few minutes from now. We have an overhead observation bay from which you can watch alongside their instructor.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

~

By the time you arrived, the simulation was already underway, and the clone that appeared to be the instructor judging from the under-armor blacks he was wearing barely spared you a glance while you were introduced. Not that you could blame his disinterest, his brothers down below were putting on quite the show. Still, you would like to glean at least a little information from the clones themselves about this place, and there needed to be a conversation happening for that so . . .

“Your sniper there needs to learn that his priority shouldn’t be the heavy troopers first.”

A handful of scars on the instructor’s face were exposed to you when he turned to smirk in your direction were surprising; you’d assumed such injuries would have been healed flawlessly in this facility. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. There was a curious rush of Force that rushed through you when he raised an amused eyebrow at you. “Oh? Who should he be focusing on then?”

“If he wants the rest of his team to survive, he’d target the stealth team making their way around the edges of the room.”

His brown eyes widened fractionally in mild surprise. “A Jetii that cares about the safety of soldiers? An unusual find. Who are you again?”

“Y/N. Another Jedi and I are here to check on the status of the army.” You made sure to make your voice wobble in a false tell.

One he seemed to buy based off the way that his smirk grew into a lopsided grin that made your heart inexplicably race. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You weren’t, but it played to your advantage to make him think you couldn’t lie for shit. Your Master, Mace Windu, had always encouraged your underhanded methods of gaining information even when the other Jedi frowned on them. ‘Use every advantage,’ he’d always say. The strange emotions that were racing around your mind because of this strange man, though, did concern you, but you shoved that to the side for later examination. You allowed a defeated-sounding sigh escape your lips as you let your body sag. “So I’ve been told.”

“So let me guess: something tipped you off about Kamino and you came looking?”

Well, he was certainly more intuitive than you would have guessed given that he was right and all. Not just a pretty face. “Busted.”

“So a tactician, piss-poor liar, and a curious adventurer. You are quite strange for a Jetii.”

“And you seem to think you know a lot about Jedi for someone who’s never left this planet.”

The second the words left your mouth, his dark eyes lit up, and you knew you’d made a mistake in your read of the man. It very abruptly all fell into place. He didn’t have those scars because of any fault in the healing here in the facility; he’d earned them in the field away from proper medical care. His knowledge wasn’t learned from some other instructor; it was learned first-hand. And his prejudice wasn’t taught institutionally; it was born from some darkness in his past.

“You’re not a clone, are you?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m the original.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his quiet chuckle, and you’d be damned if you didn’t crack a small smile yourself in response. Vow of attachments aside, you couldn’t help but already be fond of this strange man you’d just met. “So what’s your name then, Mr. Original?”

“Jango Fett.”

That name rang a bell or six. “The Mandalorian bounty hunter?” The one with the famous loathing of Jedi because they slaughtered his people?

“My reputation precedes me?”

“As well as your hatred for my kind, making you a curious choice for the progenitor of an army meant to work beside us to protect the Republic.”

“Money is money, sweetheart, and I’m learning that there might be a few Jetii that aren’t all bad.”

“A few?”

“Well . . . one or two . . . that I’d like to get to know better over a friendly dinner?”

“I suppose that could be arranged. We need to talk about how you’re training you snipers to be blind, anyway.”

~

As it turned out, dinner was in Jango’s apartment along with his clone/son Boba who you found out rather quickly you adored. The initial greeting had been rough, but he quickly warmed to you when you showed him the blaster you kept hidden within your robes for emergencies. He’d been telling some tale for the last few minutes about some trip he and his father had gone on, and his excitement was practically tangible.

“So anyways, Dad is busy trying to tie the guy up, and I spotted a no-good Jetii--”

“Boba!” his father interjected.

“What? It’s not like she’s a normal Jetii. She carries a blaster and agreed to go on a date with you.”

Your eyes widened dramatically, “This isn’t--”

“Son, this isn’t--” Jango cut himself off as the two of you talked over each other in your haste to deny the attraction you’d both been feeling all night.

“I’m a kid, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

“Boba--” This time you were cut off by a knock at the door.

The boy was already on his feet as he shouted, “I’ll get it!”

In the quiet that followed, Jango admitted, “He wasn’t wrong to assume that, you know.”

“I know,” you replied honestly, “but I took the vows, and we just met . . .”

“Dad! It’s for you!”

“Coming!” His eyes never left yours as he stood. “If you ever decide to leave that order of hypocrites . . .” The offer was clear.

“I know who to call,” you promised.

In the span of a single breath, you went from gazing at him longingly to being stunned still at the feeling of his lips on yours to staring at his retreating back in still-frozen surprise. And then everything devolved into a whirl of passive-aggressive accusatory comments, Obi-wan’s pitying gaze, and a chase that left you pondering, well, everything as you and your best friend chased the man that so easily swayed your mind away from your rigid vow of no attachments. 

“Obi-wan?” you called quietly over the comms that connected your two fighters. The two of you were tracking Jango’s ship, and you had a blackhole of anxiety gnawing its way through your stomach.

“I’m guessing this is something about that date I interrupted?”

“It wasn’t a date,” you argued automatically, but even you could hear how convincing you weren’t, “but yes.”

“It’s really getting to you that he is our assassin, isn’t it?” Your silence spoke libraries about your answer. “I’m sorry, darling.” Surprisingly, he didn’t kick into a lecture about the Code like he would have with Anakin, which you greatly appreciated. 

“Do you remember the old myths about the Force?”

“I suppose you have a specific one in mind?”

“The one about how everyone has someone out there connected to them by the Force.”

There was a heavy pause. “Do you believe this Jango Fett is your soulmate, Y/N?” Ever straight to the point was the renowned Obi-wan Kenobi.

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the tears that were currently making your eyes sting. That myth was the only way you could explain the feelings you had when looking at Jango, the way the Force seemed to dance between the two of you when he kissed you. “Yes.”

This time it was Obi-wan’s silence that was telling. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

~

After everyone was onboard a ship that was flying away from Geonosis, you locked yourself in your room with only Obi-wan allowed to enter so you could mourn in peace. All at once the galaxy was at war, your soulmate (for that’s what he must have been for you to have been brought to your knees by his death the second his head was severed even though you were too far to have seen it with your own eyes) was dead, and you were surrounded by his clones like they were living ghosts. You were a wreck, to put it mildly, and you could not let Anakin see you like this and get it into his head that such attachments were acceptable even if this was a special circumstance.

Already, you’d been weeping for hours while collapsed in the middle of the floor. And that was precisely the position Obi-wan found you when he finally returned from giving his report to the Council. In an instant, you were swept into a tight hug.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head minutely. “I can’t do this, Obi,” your voice shook. “I can’t fight with his ghosts by my side only to watch them die under my command in a war that no one wants.”

“You have my support no matter what you choose,” he promised quietly, “as long as you keep in touch.”

A shaky breath left your lips as some of the tension left your body. You hadn’t realized it, but part of you had been terrified that you would lose your best friend in this chaos. “Thank you.”

“What will you do?”

“Boba was there.”

“The little clone?”

“His son . . . sort of. He’s just a child that lost his father. I can’t just leave him.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

[redrobinhoods]

Sticks and Stones | Chapter 4, one real thing

AO3 Link | 1,900 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

A/N: This was going to be the second to last chapter and now it isn't. A little kinder slice of life is planned for the next chapter before the end of the fic. Still have some events mentioned in other fics I want to fit in here.

Chapter Summary: Stone checks in on Fox- and Senator Chuchi- while he is recovering.

Two days, later, Fox was back. While it would take a little longer for him to be cleared for return to active duty, he was to resume his other work in the meantime. Stone could hear the slight commotion in the main offices when Fox entered, a few minutes after he himself had settled into his chair with a cup of caf, but he waited a few minutes to allow Fox to settle in as well before going to check on him.

When Stone opened the door to Fox’s office, he found Senator Chuchi already inside. He had expected that. What he hadn’t expected was for her to be signing a pile of flimsiwork with a near exact replica of Fox’s signature.

“Commander Stone!” She chirped at him as he entered.

“Senator Chuchi.” He greeted, looking past her to where Fox was slumped over, propped up on his elbow, reading through a datapad. He looked exhausted.

“Please, Commander Stone. Would you call me Riyo?”

Stone felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. She couldn’t have just asked him that. ‘Riyo’ was Fox’s name for her, not his. “Why?”

“You’ve been a dear comfort to me as of the past few months. Much too dear for you to formally address me in moments like this.” She smiled up at him before turning back to the flimsiplast before her. Stone watched over her shoulder as her fingers directed the writing instrument in her hand into another near perfect replica of Fox’s signature. “Commander?” She prodded when she didn’t get a response, and that was when it clicked for Stone.

“If I can call you Riyo, you can just call me Stone, ma’am.”

“Okay, Stone.”

“Okay, Riyo.” It felt forbidden, but so, technically, was Riyo’s love for his brother.

She looked back at him with a smile before returning to the flimsi before her.

The moment gone, Stone turned his gaze back to Fox. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” Fox rasped. “Why do you ask?”

“You look like some being tied you to the back of their speeder and drove circles in a swamp for a few hours with you dragging behind like a shiny in the heat.” Stone made his way around the desk to Fox’s side, taking off a glove as he did so that he could press the back of his hand to Fox’s cheek. “I’m surprised you don’t have a fever.”

“Let me guess, I’ve got more colors in my face than a varactyl feather?”

“Something like that.” Stone chuckled. “Keep your helmet on if you talk to Thire later. He doesn’t need to worry about you right now.”

“Is Commander Thire okay?” Riyo asked with worry in her voice.

“In confidence, Sen- Riyo, the Chancellor has been very demanding as of late. It’s wearing him down.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She pressed, and Stone could understand why Fox adored her so. He couldn’t imagine most senators would so genuinely want to help a clone.

Fox solemnly shook his head. “We’ll take care of him, Ri.”

“I’ll let you know if we can’t get more lysinate.” Stone gave her what he hoped was an understanding smile. “It helps the headaches to a degree.”

“Is lysinate the strongest drug you have?”

Stone avoided a direct answer to her question. “It takes the edge off. And we need to be deployable at a moment’s notice. I think Fox is on the strongest drug I’ve ever seen at the moment.”

“His prescription isn’t classified as a strong painkiller.” Riyo protested.

“It is for clones.” Fox shrugged. “Just a flesh wound.”

“I saw your guts, Fox. We both did.” Stone scoffed. “That’s not a just flesh wound.”

“Well, both of my intestines are apparently still in one piece so I would classify this as a flesh wound. It’s my injury, Stone. I get to decide how bad it is.”

“That’s not how it works, Fox.” Riyo laughed before turning her head in Stone’s direction. “Has he always been like this?”

“As long as I’ve known him. I feel sorry for his batchmates back on Kamino, having to live with him all the time.” Though Fox began to protest, Stone continued. “The first memory I have of Fox was listening to him and Wolffe argue from halfway across the training center. I never had a good opinion of him until Geonosis. Nothing brings us clones together like almost dying. I suppose that may have been intentional.”

“Stone fought at my side on Geonosis.” Fox explained. “Our regiments were placed side by side in the battle. He helped me drag Thire out of there, actually.”

“He was hurt?” Riyo asked.

“It’s why he and Thorn ended up running security; they were the most injured of the Corrie Guard officers who survived.” Stone sighed. “It feels like it was longer than three years ago.”

Riyo nodded her agreement. “Feels like the war has been going on forever.”

“It’s going to end soon.” Fox said. “Something’s about to happen, I can feel it.”

“We can only hope it’s the end.” Stone clasped Fox’s shoulder for a moment before stepping away. “I should get back to work.”

Riyo rose from her chair and stepped towards Stone. She held out her arms, waiting for Stone to initiate the hug by stepping towards her before she wrapped her arms around him. “It was good to see you.”

“You too.” Stone murmured out of instinct. This was a new form of intimacy for him. It took the albeit short walk back to his office for him to realize what form of intimacy it was. Friendship. Stone had never had friends before, only lovers and brothers. The feeling would take some time to adjust to.

---

Stone tossed his helmet onto his bed when he returned to the barracks that evening. Fox would be spending the night with Riyo, it would just be him and Thire tonight. He could hear the water in the refresher running and decided to join Thire while there was still hot water left.

“Have you successfully melted the skin off your back yet?” Stone laughed when the wave of steam hit him as he opened the door. A hot shower after a long day was the only form of therapy they could get that didn’t come in the form of other beings or drinks. Stone didn’t think about Thire’s lack of answer until he turned around from shutting the door. “Thire?”

For a moment, the man on the floor before him was Thorn, laying in a pool of blood. Then it wasn’t. With the imagined blood gone, he ran to Thire’s side.

“Thire. Thire!” Stone pulled Thire’s head up into his arms as he looked over Thire’s body for injury. Finding none and getting no response he reached down to check for a pulse, letting out a sob of relief when he found it. “What happened to you, kid?” He murmured as he gently set Thire back on the floor so that he could turn off the tap and fetch a towel.

When Thire was wrapped up in his towel, Stone gathered him in his arms and carried him out of the refresher to lay him down on his bed. Thire didn’t stir when Stone set him down on the hard mattress, nor when Stone sat beside him and gently ran his fingers through his hair. It was only after a few minutes had passed that he stirred under Stone’s touch.

“Hey, kid.” Stone continued to run his fingers through Thire’s hair when he saw how his brother unconsciously leaned into it as he came to.

“What happened?” Thire managed.

“I found you on the ground in the ‘fresher. I thought you-.” Stone’s voice broke and he couldn’t finish the thought.

“Like Thorn.”

“Yes.”

Thire’s eyes turned away from Stone’s, up towards the ceiling. “I am so sorry. I never- I couldn’t put you and Fox through that again.”

“It’s okay, kid. I’m just glad to have you back with me.” Stone reached down with his free hand and clasped Thire’s hand in his, running his thumb in small circles on the back of Thire’s hand. “What happened to you?”

“I must’ve passed out.” Thire’s gaze turned back to Stone. “Maybe the water was too hot and my blood pressure dropped too quickly?”

“Guess you’ll have to stop taking hot showers then.”

Thire’s face broke into a tired smile. “Never.” They sat in silence for a minute before Thire spoke again. “Stone, could you grab my clothes?”

“Yeah.” Stone rose from Thire’s side to reach up for the clothes that dangled from the storage cubby above the bed. “Do you want help?”

“Stone, if I can’t get my greys on then I should probably retire.”

Stone laughed with him as he stepped back to put a fresh pair of his own blacks on. When he turned back around, Thire had managed to get the pants of his blacks on and throw the towel onto the ground. “Do you want a shirt?”

Thire shook his head. “Too constricting. Stone?”

“Thire?”

“Could you hold-.” Thire stopped, biting his lip. He didn’t want to appear weak. Even in just Stone’s presence, the pressure that the Kaminoans had placed on them to be perfect could be felt.

“Of course, Thire.” Stone crossed the room back to Thire’s bed, playfully pushing Thire over so that he could lay down beside him. “Come ‘ere.” He pulled Thire back over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking Thire’s head under his chin. “Fox thinks that the war is ending soon. When it does, we’ll have a new chancellor, maybe even one you won’t be allergic to. Everything is going to be alright, Thire.”

“I know, Stone. I know.”

---

When Stone woke the next morning, he found Thire’s head still laying on his arm as his younger brother dozed. Despite the numbness in his forearm, Stone stayed still, watching the rise and fall of Thire’s chest. Though Thire was only a month younger than him and he hadn’t been through the stressors that those made to be commanders had, he looked older than Fox did already with his brow furrowed even in sleep. The end of the war had to come soon. But sooner than the end of the war was the time they had to report in by.

“Thire.” Stone murmured.

His brother’s eyes opened on the first mention of his name and he sat up so that Stone could roll out of bed. When Stone came back from the refresher, Thire had already assembled his armor and was reading over a datapad. When he caught Stone’s gaze, Thire turned off the datapad and tossed it back into one of the drawers under his bed. “Do you mind if I borrow Jek and Rys today?”

“Go for it. They’re your batchmates.”

“They’re your men.”

Stone shrugged before bending over to pull his boots on. “I know how close you three are. Besides, I’m not going to have enough work to go around today.”

“Thanks, Stone, for everything.” When Stone couldn’t think of a response, Thire waited patiently for him to finish assembling his armor before falling into step at his side as they stepped back into the barracks.

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 33

To say Wolffe was frustrated would have been the biggest understatement in the galaxy. There he was, muscles burning with fatigue, sweat clinging to his blacks and panting like a Hutt that just took the stairs to the third floor. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a cadet, damn, even the first battle of Geonosis seemed like a breeze right now. Still, he forced himself to maintain his stance, he would be damned if they caught him slipping now. It was so infuriating, Kriari was breathing a little deeper than she usually did, she was trying to control her breathing, but that was the only indication that they had been fighting the last thirty minutes. 

He knew she was a Jedi, he knew they trained since they were children, so did the clones and they were engineered to keep up with Jedi, but the gap between their abilities was still quite large. He resisted the urge to scratch his fresh scar out of annoyance. They had been at it for a week now and he was making progress -slow, but progress nonetheless. 

Kriari slipped into her offensive stance once again. Wolffe resisted the urge to sigh. He admired her and her abilities -whether influenced by the Force or not- but he was not going to lie and say getting his ass handed to him on a platter by a teenager didn’t hurt his pride a little. Kriari moved, and this time, Wolffe could actually follow the movement, his new eye a little sharper than his original one. He blocked one strike, then the counter strike, he parried and went on the offensive. Kriari blocked his roundhouse kick with ease, using his own strength and momentum to redirect the blow and get inside his guard. 

The first time she’d done that, Wolffe had ended in the med bay with a heavily bruised rib, he knew better now. He backed away from her and created more space for him to move. Kriari wasn’t incredibly big or strong, but she was quick and she knew what she was doing. Putting some distance between them was the smartest thing to do. Once he was out of her range, he went on the offensive again, looking for an opening in her defence. And then he saw it, Kriari had left her left side open, and Wolffe respected her too much to go easy on her. 

As Wolffe’s fist collided with Kriari’s left side, all the air in her lungs was forced out. He heard the little “umph” that escaped her lips as she stumbled away from him. She looked at him in disbelief as she held her side. He smirked but he really should have kept a straight face. Well hindsight is 20/20. Something lit up in Kriari’s eyes, something only her fellow Padawans had ever seen, something her masters found both concerning and incredibly amusing in equal measure: Competitiveness. 

“Ah, shit, Commander- wait!” he said, backing up slowly as a predatory smile crept onto her face. Panic started to grow inside him steadily as the woman in front of him slipped out of her stance and started circling him like a predator, surrounding him, watching him, stalking him. 

“You landed one on me, Wolffe. Let’s see if you can do that again.”

But he never got to find out, because General Koon announced their time was over. They all had responsibilities to attend to. It was quite remarkable how the fight left Kriari the second she stepped off the ring, Wolffe definitely still had his guard up. Sometimes he forgot that, for all her emotional volatility, Kriari was still a Jedi. Granted, not a fully trained Jedi but a Jedi nonetheless, so of course she knew when to quit. 

Sometimes it felt like he knew very little about her, about her upbringing, about her culture and her relationships outside the 104th. But it didn’t really matter, he knew who she was at her core: brave, bold, selfless, loyal. He didn’t need more than that, even if the urge to know -to know her- was growing with each passing day. He wanted to be able to sit at the canteen and drink caf with her and talk, or more specifically, hear her talk. 

He was a man of few words and 80% of those were usually sarcasm, so he wasn’t one to make good conversation, but he could listen, he was very good at that. Wolffe had always been the observant type, and it was most likely the reason he had become Commander in the first place.

“Hey, Wolffe?” said Kriari beside him. “I won’t be able to train with you for a while. I’ve been assigned a mission and I don’t know when I’ll be back. You’ll train with Master Plo while I’m gone.”

Her smile was a little strained, like she didn’t really want to go, but orders were orders. The thought of her leaving with the 212th again made him more bitter than he cared to admit to himself, and once again his feelings were making his job far more difficult than it should have been.

“I guess you could give Cody my regards then..” he said as he put away his water bottle and towel before swinging the strap of his backpack over his right shoulder. 

“Oh, no, I’m not being deployed with the 212th. I was assigned an undercover mission. It’s just me and two other troopers. We’re going to Ord Anlata.”

Wolffe looked at Kriari for a moment, not really understanding why she was sharing this information with him. Did she feel guilty for leaving him again and felt like she had to explain herself? Did she simply not realize she shouldn’t be telling him this? No, it was none of those. And then it dawned on him, Kriari was nervous. But why?

He didn’t have time to figure it out, because Kriari crossed the space between them and slowly, gently, reached her hand up. Wolffe was frozen in place as Kriari’s hand caressed his jaw, his cheek, the bottom of his scar. He wondered how the yellow of her skin would contrast with his dark complection and if she could feel the stubble starting to grow. She was looking at his face so intently, like she wanted to memorize it. She was touching it so softly, so reverently it made him feel fragile. It made him feel seen.

The moment ended before he could understand what was going on. Kriari took a step back and clasped her hand behind her back. She sighed at the floor before looking up at him once again. 

“Goodbye, Commander. I hope we see eachother again. May the Force be with you.”

…

Sinker was almost done packing when Wolffe entered the barracks. He didn’t really pay him much attention, he still needed to double check his weapons were in top shape for his next mission. He had packed his new civvy clothes and fake IDs, he had hidden as many weapons among his luggage as he could without making him an easy target for scanners. He checked for ammo, then for his maintenance kit and the first aid pack Twitch had given him. He took a deep breath in. This one would be tricky. 

“Can I have a word?” Asked Wolffe beside him. 

“Of course, Marshal Commander.” answered Sinker teasingly. Wolffe had been a little reluctant when he had been promoted, but the Pack was glad for him, he deserved it. 

“None of that, this is more of an unofficial matter,” he said before sitting on the cot across from Sinker. “I have a bad feeling about this mission, the Commander made it seem like she- like you wouldn’t be coming back.” 

Now this was way out of Sinker’s area of expertise. He knew Wolffe and their Jedi Commander had a special bond, hell there was an ongoing bet on the status of their relationship. But to have Wolffe approach him about Kriari was not something he had expected.

“Well, we are going undercover and we might not be back in a while…”

Wolffe sighed.

“It’s not that, when she said goodbye- it seemed almost too final '' If it hadn’t been for the fact that his brother was voicing his concern, Sinker would have thought Wolffe was completely indifferent to the situation. If one looked at his face, the only thing they’d see was confusion and a little frustration, but not concern. 

“Maybe you should speak to her about it, vod.” Sinker let go of any pretence of formality. This wasn’t his CO talking to him, it was his brother. “The only thing I can tell you is that I will do anything to keep her safe, and so will Art. But I can’t speak for how the Commander feels, I care for her because she is loyal and kind, but that doesn’t mean we are close.”

Wolffe looked away, as if ashamed of something, as if speaking to Kriari was the last thing he wanted to do. And it was probably true, Sinker thought, they were walking a very fine line and one step in the wrong direction could prove to be catastrophic to them both. 

“Come on, Wolffe.” he said finally with a smirk and a rough pat on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a teenager, Commander.”

“Sinker-”

“It’s Just talking, vod. Clear things up before she leaves, because if something happens to either of you, you will both regret it the rest of your lives.”

…

I stared at my folded robes, the urge to take them with me was great, but I would not be a Jedi for the duration of the mission, and as such, I would not be able to have anything that could identify me as one. Still, I would not be erasing my identity so easily, even if my clothes, my armour and my braid would not be coming with me on this journey. 

I wore robes that resembled traditional Tusken wear -with a few alterations to make them easier to fight in-, my face would be covered most of the time, and the only weapon I’d be able to use was the old rifle I’d brought with me when I first left Tatooine all those years ago. It was a jarring experience, to let go of one’s identity completely and become no one. The ego was yet another attachment Jedi were encouraged to let go of, but only few managed to do it. 

And there I was, staring holes into a few layers of clothing that had become a part of me, a part of my identity. I would no longer be Commander to the 104th and the 212th. I would no longer be an apprentice to masters Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi. I would no longer be Kriari Foreas. 

Someone knocked at my door. It was past lights out, and I would be heading out at first light. Few people knew where I was going, but they all knew I’d be leaving for a while. Whoever was out there wanted a word before I left. I should have been surprised, I really should have. But when the door opened to reveal a very anxious Wolffe, all I could think about was the fact that he was there. 

“Commander, can I have a word?” He said after a moment.

All I could manage was a nod as I stepped aside from the door to let him in. He seemed just as lost as I felt. The Force around him was anxious as well, and he couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eyes. 

“About today, Commander- what you said….”

“I apologize if I overstepped, Wolffe” I interrupted. “I just, Where I’m going isn’t exactly safe at the moment, and I wanted to make sure… I don’t know what I-”

“You made it sound like you wouldn’t be coming back.” He said, his tone slightly accusing. 

“I might not be.” 

“You will, you have to.” He insisted, finally looking at me. 

“I can’t make promises like that and you know it.” I said, almost pleading. 

I was confused, overcome with emotions I couldn’t place. Why was he here?

“Then I’ll make a promise,” he said, taking my right hand in both of his. “I will tear this galaxy apart to find you, Kriari. So make sure you come back.”

He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed my palm before placing it on his cheek. 

“I promise.”

[unexpectedreylo]

Why Hasn’t Anyone Lost A Hand?

Art by @krisssten

Sometimes, Star Wars fans can seem very beholden to tradition.  I sometimes fall into this; I wasn’t happy at first they were releasing the Star Wars films in December.  I’d been accustomed to them being summer movies, released in May.  

That moment in Eps II and V where someone loses a hand curiously became a “tradition,” and to a few out there, they wonder why this fate hasn’t yet befallen the characters and if it will in IX.  I think it should be clear by now that the current filmmakers aren’t necessarily following “tradition” or story beats in the previous films.  But this isn’t just because they want to shake things up.   In this instance they have good reasons not to do so.

For one thing, in both the prequels and the original trilogy, the hand losses are “symbolic castration.”  Note that in each instance that a man loses his hand, he is holding a lightsaber.  Uh huh.  On one level, symbolic castration represents the broader castration anxiety, a man’s fear of losing his bits which in turn represent a fear of being dominated, being degraded, losing control.  On another level, boys in some cultures were over the process of their initiation to adulthood were subjected to rituals meant to symbolize castration as a way of testing the boy’s courage.  

It would make no sense whatsoever then to subject Rey to “symbolic castration.”  Not just because audiences might not like watching a woman get maimed, as some have theorized, but because of the simple reason that you can’t threaten a woman with castration.  The awful practice of “female genital mutilation” isn’t universal enough to produce a primal fear in all women, as castration does to men.  There are more reasons why Rey won’t lose any limbs, which I’ll get to.

In the prequel trilogy, Anakin Skywalker loses his hand  (a good chunk of his forearm too) while battling Count Dooku on Geonosis.  Anakin wields two lightsabers after he rushes to fight Dooku and the latter quickly disables Obi-Wan.  This symbolizes Anakin trying too hard to assert his dominance  over someone who might be less powerful but is older and has far more experience (he makes the same mistake against Obi-Wan in ROTS).  And as a result, Dooku “castrates” the whippersnapper by taking out an arm (and a lightsaber), then tossing him aside.  This moment initiates Anakin onto a path toward his destiny:  this is where he starts to become “more machine than man.”  He has lost his first bit of humanity, reflecting not only his brashness and foolishness against Dooku but also the sin of slaughtering the Sand People.

In the original trilogy, it’s Darth Vader who commits the “symbolic castration” on his son Luke Skywalker during their duel on Bespin.  Luke makes the same mistake Anakin did in AOTC; he challenges someone older and more experienced before he was ready.  And like Anakin, he pays for it by losing his hand.  But there’s something more going on.  For one thing, it’s a father maiming his son.  The father fears that his son might make a challenge to his power, so he knocks the son down a peg or two.  After all, Luke is in many ways what Anakin should have been.  Unlike Vader, Luke is whole and Lucas has noted that Vader lost a lot of his potential in the Force with the destruction of his body.  It is kind of Oedipal even though they are not fighting over the mother;  Palpatine in ROTJ starts to look at Luke as a replacement for Vader (“someone younger and far more powerful”).  For another thing, it symbolizes the sins of the father passing down to the son, which oddly enough doesn’t fully play out until TLJ.  Most curiously of all, it’s an act that connects the two of them and brings them closer.  Both have been maimed, both have to live with mechanical prostheses the rest of their lives.  It’s that connection ironically that makes it possible for Luke to turn Vader back to the light. 

Remember, Luke looked at his mechanical hand before tossing away his lightsaber, sparing Vader and himself from the Dark Side.

Which brings me to our male co-protagonist Kylo Ren.  Surely, he’s a candidate for losing a hand.  He’s a man.  He is a Skywalker.  But he escaped TLJ intact.  In the previous Star Wars films, the symbolic castration happens in the second chapter of each trilogy.  Of course it is entirely possible it could happen in IX but I am doubtful for a few reasons.

For one thing, Kylo is not just a Skywalker, he is also a Solo.  While Han had suffered on some level in the original trilogy, notably getting frozen in carbonite just as his relationship with Leia takes off, he is not maimed or permanently harmed. Kylo’s paternal connection is with a scoundrel not with Darth Vader; that connection is maternal.  I believe this symbolizes that Kylo’s path will be different from Luke and Anakin’s paths.  Anakin fathered children after his maiming but after he fully becomes Darth Vader, he becomes sterile, permanently cut off from all of his humanity, including his sexuality, the rest of his life.  For Luke, he apparently went the hermit’s route, never having children of his own and failing to even fully train a student.  He was sterile all along.  Han on the other hand survives carbonite freezing and temporary blindness to father Ben with Leia shortly after the events of ROTJ.  I think this indicates that not only Kylo will If he’s redeemed, remain whole, he will also father children of his own.  Moreover by his own redemption he will finally break the “curse” and his children get the opportunity to begin anew, free of the burdens of the past.  This is another reason why they won’t hack off Rey’s hand; her destiny is to be a mother, either symbolically, literally, or both.  

In any case it’s not as though neither Rey nor Kylo experience the scary, painful initiations into adulthood in these movies.  Kylo has been emasculated over and over in two films:  scarred, shot, defeated, zapped by Force lightning, verbally and psychologically abused, etc..  Rey is scarred during her fight in the throne room.  Both experience romantic heartbreak and disappointment as each refuses to give up their side for the other.  But each can recover from these setbacks and hopefully in IX they will at last become fully realized and whole.

[cienie-isengardu]

@cptalpha-17 replied to The audience applaude, with the exception of...          

Can you explain what's going on in this scene? I've never read The Cestus Deception but I'm intrigued by this scene.       

Sure!

During Clone Wars, new type of security droids have appeared on the market; the JK-13, by some called Jedi Killers. Due to their advanced construction, the droids had limited Force abilities that allow them to anticipate even Jedi's moves. What is worse, JK series was manufactured on Ord Cestus, planet belonging/allied to Republic and Separatists were very interested in buying such machines. What of course put Republic best interest in danger, so Chancellor Palpatine decided to sent team of clones under Jedi command to solve the problem - diplomatically, if possible or using violence if necessary.

Obi-Wan (Anakin, who at that time was still padawan) was removed from the front line and had he been called back to Coruscant, not really knowing what is going on. The appointed meeting place was the sporting arena, usually used for matches of Coruscant's most popular spectator sport - but for this gathering, it was sort of war council:

Today the vast stadium was empty, cleared and sequestered, hosting a very different sort of gathering.

As he emerged from the echoing length of pedestrian tunnel, Obi-Wan scanned the tiered stands. Most of the rows were as empty as a Tatooine desert scape, but a few dozen witnesses were gathered in the box-seat section. He recognized a scattering of high-level elected officials, some important but ordinarily reclusive bureaucrats, a few people from the technical branches, and even some clone troopers. Instinct and experience suggested that this was a war council.

The gathering’s goal was to demonstrate the prowess of JK-13 against Confederacy destroyer droid captured on Geonosis and reconstructed to original manufacturer specifications. It took JK-13 forty-two seconds to destroy the other droid. The droid against droid fight was just a way to establish a baseline, a reference point against an opponent both familiar and formidable for gathered people.

The next to fight JK-13 was Advanced Recon Commando:

On cue, a single clone trooper, a commando in full battle armor, armed with an infantry-grade blaster rifle, stepped forward from his hiding place beneath the lip of the arena wall. Clone Commandos were specialized troopers. They had been modified from the basic trooper template to allow for specific training protocols.

A blast helmet concealed his features, but his posture bespoke aggressive readiness. An uneasy mutter wound its way through the crowd.

The amphibian seemed taken aback. "I ... would not wish to be responsible for a death ..."

The technician fixed the Aqualish with a pitying gaze, as if every response had been anticipated. "Don't worry." Her motions were measured and relaxed as she manipulated a few controls. "The machine is calibrated for nonlethal apprehension."

Although that pronouncement quieted most of the witnesses, Obi-Wan felt even more uneasy. This droid, with its ethereal beauty and unconventional lethality, had something to do with his mission. But what?

"What exactly is the trooper's objective?" Obi-Wan called down.

The corners of Lido Shan's lips pulled upward. "To fight his way past the JK and capture me."

The muttering witnesses regarded her with disbelief and something more disturbing: anticipation. They knew they were about to witness something memorable. But which did they desire most? The JK defeated, or this snooty technician given her comeuppance?

So, the moment when ARC joined the test, most people were already excited about the fight to some degree. Except Kenobi, and Kit Fisto who also was summoned to the arena. After clone trooper was defeated, other clone helped him get up and took him off from arena, most likely to medic (the ARC's nervous system had been momentarily overloaded, and he had consequently suffered a few hours of irregular heart rhythm. Nothing alarming, but he had been taken to a med bay for observation for a few days)

Around that time, Kenobi had the short talk with few citizens of Republic; one of them said “Come now, sir. It’s just a clone, after all.” that brought Kenobi’s disgust.

Of course, the moment when JK-13 proven to be so great machine, one of witnesses asked Jedi for demontrastion. Kenobi and Kit Fisto didn’t feel like fighting just to satisfy the crowd but Kit decided to try the droid for himself. The JK was defeated and the fight was spectacular for viewers (some never had a chance to see Jedi in real action) but the whole affair left a bad feeling in two other ARCs Nate (A-98) & Forry, who talking about mission and related to it demo fight in arena that happened not so ago:

Nate triggered PLAY, and together they watched as the Jedi not only stood his ground against the JK, but actually forced it into retreat. Nate inhaled sharply as the Jedi beat the thing at its own game. In some ways his tactics weren't that different from those attempted by the trooper, but the results were impressively superior.

"Beat it."

"Umm-hmmm." Forry clucked admiringly. "Did you see that timing?"

"Uh-huh. Never seen reflexes like that, either. You're right: the machine was faster, but it didn't make any difference."

"Jedi." Forty laughed. It was hard to say whether the laughter was bitter or admiring. Perhaps a touch of both. "So they watched a trooper go down, and just had to get down there and show off."

Nate caught the implication: the Jedi might have even programmed the droid. How could the droid move faster and still lose? Unless it was instructed to lose ...

Nonsense. They both knew a Jedi would never do such a thing. This was nothing but lingering unease, a defensive technique to hide the slight feeling of inferiority troopers sometimes felt around Temple dwellers.

"They beat Jango," both of them said simultaneously. These three words were almost a litany. Whatever they could say about Jedi being strange, or egotistical, or bizarrely esoteric, in an arena on Geonosis they had slain the clone troopers' template, and that meant they were worthy of respect

Later, Nate, Forry and Sirty (the ARC that fought against JK-13 on arena) became part of clone squad sent with Kenobi and Kit to Ord Cestus to deal with the production of bio-advanced JK-13 series.

Hope it explain what is going on on the previously quoted part :)

[b-radley66]

A prompt if you want it: Shaak Ti interacts with the Blackbirds at some point after they've been assembled. Would love seeing your take on how she views the squad and how she views their lieutenant. XD (Only if you want, though. Might spur me on writing this training mission.)

Blackbirds: Mother of the Hunt

Shaak Ti steps off of the gunship, a second before it takes off again. She takes a deep breath, breathing in the dust. For an instant, she stands on another dusty world, watching clones under her command assault a droid control ship. Of course, she watched them after she had leaped to the top of the grounded vessel and is cheerfully hurling parts of droids off of the top.

She hears a dry Corellian drawl in her mind, in the unbroken training bond. Aren’t you a little serene and wise to be thinking about being cheerful? the voice snarks.

Watch it, infant. I wouldn’t be too snarky. Have you gotten the neon pink out of your beard yet?

There is silence in the bond. It was green, he says with as much dignity as an early-twenties human male can offer.

Ti clears her head as a familiar figure walks up. She smiles and returns Obi-Wan Kenobi’s bow, her eyes growing troubled at the lines around his mouth; the half armor on his torso. He is only five years younger than she is.

“Hello, Master Ti. It is good to see you. How goes it on Kamino?”

“As well as can be expected, Master Kenobi,” she says. “It is a daily battle with the Kaminoans to improve the lot of the clones; to have basic guarantees that the boys want be ended the second they get a hangnail.”

He nods soberly. “I am glad that you are there, Master Ti. I only hope that we can get this horrible war over with and then solve what we can do with these men. These men who have shown us nothing but loyalty.” He grins. “How is your former Padawan? Has he gotten the paint out of his hair and beard?”

She feels the smile of pride flow to her features. She fights the urge to pull her comm and show pictures. “I don’t know. Last I heard he was clean shaven for the first time in years, as well as walking around with a distinctly Master Windu look. I only hope that he keeps his impression of said Master to himself.” She touches Kenobi on the shoulder. “I guess I should thank Lieutenant Maul and his troops for teaching he and Drop a tiny bit of humility.”

Kenobi grins. “Only a tiny bit. A ‘drop’ in the bucket.”

Ti rolls her eyes and smirks.

The expression of huntresses on her world fades as she sees Kenobi’s face grow sober. “That is why I asked you here, Master. You have had great success in training Jedi by unconventional means, in the Hunt on your world. Not just Croft and my former Padawan’s apprentice, but others whose Masters have wanted an edge for their trainees—an edge to connect them with the natural world and the Force around us.”

Ti remains silent as she watches Kenobi gather his thoughts. “I believe that Maul is doing an extraordinary job at training his unit. I think that he has melded this diverse bunch of troopers into what will be an effective, unconventional force, much like your former apprentice’s.”

He looks down. “I would like you to give an honest assessment to Maul.  I think he needs to hear it from someone who is not named Kenobi.” Obi-Wan looks up sharply. “I would also like you to give one to Croft.”

Ti nods. “I know. Taliesin has found himself the senior General in the Special Operations Division, since Janysytang was killed.” She closes her eyes for a moment, fighting the pain of her thoughts. All of twenty-two years old, she thinks, shielding the thought from the training bond.

“You know I voiced my own skepticism at this endeavor at the first, Obi-Wan,” she says quietly.

“I know, Master. I know that Master Qui-gon—.”

She holds up her hand, stopping him in mid-thought. “No, Obi-Wan. It is not that. I am a Jedi. I remember that one of our tenets is compassion. Out of compassion, comes forgiveness.” She grins crookedly, an unconscious copy of her Padawan’s usual expression. “Some would say that I am the living embodiment of second chances, with my track record.”

He nods solemnly, thinking of her two previous Padawans. Of their death before knighthood. Of her grief, so well contained behind the serene countenance. He shakes his head. He had gone to Shili to bring her back from her mourning period after the second. A thirteen year old human, only at the Temple for eight years, had been on page duty at the hangar when they had exited their shuttle.

The same young human, now a blooded General with so much responsibility.

“No, Obi-Wan. It is not Maul’s history. Rather, since I have become General of Training, I have felt a tremendous responsibility to these men. To give them as much of an edge as I can, so that they can survive to whatever we can do for them. I am just—.” She stops. “I am interested to see how someone who has never trained someone, who has only undergone Force knows what in the way of his own training with the Sith, can give the edge to these men.”

Kenobi smiles. “I think that you will be surprised, Shaak,” he says. “Just as I was surprised that day in the hangar when you immediately connected with that small Corellian, so soon after your losses.”

She remains quiet. An unknown clone officer with the insignia of a Captain walks up. Ti smiles broadly. “General Kenobi, this is Captain Pal, my adjutant. He is kind of an unconventional fellow himself. I think he knows one of your Blackbirds.” The officer salutes them both smartly.

Kenobi nods and beckons to another trooper. “Waxer. Please escort General Ti to the training area.”

As Ti leaves, Kenobi turns to Pal. “What did she mean, Captain, that you were an ‘unconventional fellow’?”

He can hear the smile in the officer’s voice, behind his bucket. “She meant that I didn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground, General,” he replies dryly. “Not until she made me. On Geonosis. The General has a way of finding the deepest hidden talent of someone. Watched her do it with many a hopeless group of shinies.” He stops for a moment. “May I speak freely, General?”

“Of course, Captain,” Kenobi answers.

“I know that Jedi don’t love. That they don’t feel pride. But I watch her as she stands there as the new battalions march past her. I see the love. The pride. Then I watch something die in her as they finish passing her.” He salutes again and leaves.

Kenobi is silent as he considers what this war is doing to them all.

~=~=~=~=~=

Pal walks down the company street. He curses himself as he wonders whether he had done his General, for whom he would gladly shield from any harm, be it another pissant jetti or an army of clankers, any favors by his openness to Kenobi.

He sees a clone in body suit, his hair long, but with a familiar look about him. He walks faster and pulls his bucket off.

The other clone, wearing the red crosses of a medic, stops. He grins. “Hello, Pal. Did you stop by for more airsickness patches?” The two clones bring their foreheads together.

Tally’s eyes widen as he sees the insignia and the pauldron. “You? Pukey? A captain? They must be hard up for officers.”

“They recognized my obvious charm and good looks,” Pal retorts. Tally laughs. “That is not the Pal I knew. He would’ve been looking at his feet after my first words to him. What happened and what have you done with my batch-mate?”

Pal looks away. “Geonosis, happened,” he says quietly. They both sober. “I heard. I heard you took over two companies and kicked a Jedi’s ass to get her moving, when she was ready to abandon you all.”

Pal feels his anger rise, tamps it down. “You only got it half right, bud,” he says, his teeth clinched. “I took over that wing, but that Jedi wasn’t ready to abandon us because she was a coward. She wanted someone else to take over, so that she could go and die. So that she could join her friends and what remained of her left arm in the arena on bug-world. I just gave her a reason to live.”

Tally falls silent. “You’re here for the inspection, right? To see if our L-T is good enough to keep us?” He turns and follows Pal to the training area.

“Yes. I am,” Pal says matter-of-factly.

“Then we’re as good as sunk. They’ll probably send the Lieutenant back to where he came from. I have never met a Jedi Master, except maybe Kenobi, who saw things outside of their doctrine.”

“You haven’t met General Ti, have you? You met her Padawan, General Croft, I heard.”

Tally snorts. “That ain’t exactly a glowing recommendation, my brother,” he says after a moment.  “He is an immature little shit who thinks with his deece, half the time.”

Pal grins. “Sounds like most of the brothers I know. Don’t know about his maturity, Tally. But I know that he didn’t lose any of his commandos through ten missions. It was only when he got to his last campaign, a garden spot that we managed to abandon after he, Kenobi, Skywalker, and that little Commander, Tano, managed to wrest it from the Seppies.” He looks forward, watching his General observing the Blackbirds exercise. “He wasn’t even a General, yet.”

Tally looks as if to say something, but stops. Pal pushes forward. “Tally, I know how you feel about what our lives are. But there are good people—Jedi and our commanders who are fighting to make our lives better. People who think that we are worth it. From what I have heard, I think your Lieutenant is one of those.” He touches the medic on his cheek. “I know what you can do, Tally. How hard you work to keep our brothers alive. You have to have faith that you will be recognized for what you do. You’re a better doctor than most I have seen who have the fancy piece of paper. Might not be up to Surgeon-General Che, yet, but at least none of us are scared shitless around you.”

They both laugh. Pal turns and looks at his Jedi, her tall frame still and serene as she stands next to a figure who can only be Lieutenant Maul. Both watch as the squad works at Teras Kasi exercises.

He sees Tally’s eyes widen as Husker walks up to Ti. They both laugh, Ti with that full throated laugh, with full canines that only Pal and perhaps a young Zeltron get to see on all but the rarest of occasions. He smiles as Ti pulls Husker to her in a deep embrace, whispering into his ear.

Tally is thoughtful as they pull closer. Both of them see Rabbit lunge at the exercise leader, Sergeant Shiv, in an attempt to use a rare move.

They both wince as the shiny slips and falls to his knees, as he usually does. Both troopers watch as Maul walks over to the combat pair.

~=~=~=~=~=

Maul walks over to Rabbit and Shiv. He takes a deep breath and pulls Rabbit to his feet. “You are coming closer, Rabbit,” Maul says. “You just have to anticipate how he anticipates that move.”

Rabbit takes the proffered hand and stands. He hangs his head. He looks over Maul at the older version of Commander Half-Pint, watching quietly, her violet eyes taking it all in. Where Commander Tano was all energy and snark, this one was all serenity and quiet. Is this what Ahsoka will be like in another three decades or so? All that snark and laughter gone?

Rabbit looks down. “I am sorry, Lieutenant. I am making us look bad to that Jedi. I am making you look bad.”

Maul gives one of his small smiles. “Don’t worry about it, Rabbit. I only care that you get it and that you can use it to survive. Besides,” he says, the smile growing by millimeters. “You don’t want Rancor to show you up.”

He turns away. Six squares off against Shiv. “You can do it, trooper,” Shiv says. “But I ain’t going to give it to you.”

Rabbit curses as he goes flying through the air.

~=~=~=~=~=

Ti watches Maul’s expressionless face as the young clone goes flying. Even though he is quiet and his Force-sense is so contained, she can feel a very tiny bit of impatience. Almost imperceptible. He walks over to Rabbit.

Ti makes a decision. She touches him on his shoulder. She can feel the coiled power in that one touch. “Lieutenant Maul. This is your training exercise and I am no expert on this discipline, but may I try something?”

He stares at her, his golden eyes searching her face for any sign of displeasure. She smiles slightly, careful not to show her sharp canines. After a moment, he nods. “By all means, Master Ti.”

She walks over to Rabbit and pulls him up effortlessly. She pulls her robe off and hands it to Raze, who looks on with wide eyes. She is clad in singlet and skirt, her arms with much more power than the only other Togruta they had seen. His own eyebrows raise. A few more white markings on her arms than their sometime junior instructor.

Maul sees her whisper in Rabbit’s ears, away from Shiv. He listens attentively. Ti smiles as he nods and bows her head to him. She turns around and walks towards Maul, reclaiming her robe from the grinning Raze.

As she dons it, Rabbit and Shiv square off. This time Shiv lunges first. Rabbit easily sidesteps, then starts to lunge with the same move. Maul starts to close his eyes, then snaps them fully open as Rabbit jinks in another direction, then back to the center. His fists strike his opponent in the jaw, then whip around and strike Shiv on the neck.

Shiv goes down. Rabbit immediately is there helping him up, as Tally walks up. The other Blackbirds gather around them both, slapping Rabbit on the back and gently joshing Shiv, once they see he is on his feet, albeit shakily.

Maul looks at Ti, his eyes widen. He shakes his head and regains his equilibrium. “The Charging Wampa? I hadn’t taught them that yet.” He turns and squares off. Ti nearly laughs as he gives the impression of his feet planting to the ground—a move she has seen on another in her life. One who this young man and his men had caused to lose some hair and dignity.

“You didn’t say that you knew Teras Kasi, Master Ti,” he says.

“I don’t. Don’t know a damned bit of it,” she says. She smiles and bows her head to Maul. “I just told him to take the example of his Lieutenant—his teacher—and defy expectations.”

He remains silent. She continues. “No, you hadn’t taught them that move yet. But you have inspired them to go beyond and study more, to keep you on your toes as well.” This time she bares her teeth in her grin. “I think you will do just fine, Maul. When I walked up to this area, I felt the energy and the comradeship from this disparate group of troopers.” Maul looks away. “From you, most of all, Lieutenant. You who are so closed off. I felt it in you most of all. I think your friend Obi-Wan was right to entrust you with these men’s lives. They are as good for you, as you are for them.”

She turns to walk away.

“One more question, Master,” Maul asks. “Why did you remove your robe when you walked out there, then put it back on.”

It is her turn to look down. “Because that was their space. I was not a Jedi master, there. I am as much a student as they are,” she says.

Ti starts to turn away. She allows a gleam to come into her violet eyes. “ A couple of more things. I believe that when my former student’s hair grows in, he would look divine in purple. It is one of his family’s colors.  Drop, as well.”

She walks away.

“You said two things, I believe Master Ti,” Maul says.

She is a blur as she reaches into her robes and skirt, down to her leg. Maul catches a glimpse of scarlet and skin as her right arm comes up and forward.

A hunting knife quivers in the dead center of a makiwara pole, used to hone punches.

Her huntress’s teeth are bared again as she looks at the entire squad. “Always carry a knife, gentlemen,” she says. She turns back to Maul. “Just in case you thought I was all talk, Lieutenant.”

Raze walks over to the blade and takes it. His face strains as he tries to pull it from the thick wooden post. Pal walks over and looks at it. “Don’t worry. She has others. That is just her teaching knife.”

~=~=~=~=~=

As Ti walks away, she hears the warm voice of Taliesin Croft. Thanks, Master. Guess we’ll be looking over our shoulders again.

She hears his voice in her mind grow serious. I miss you, my mother-of-the-hunt.

Shaak Ti manages to fight the tears from her eyes. As do I, my hunter.

[beatrice-otter]

Past Lives, Chapter 9/?

On AO3 Chapter 1 on Dreamwidth

Chapter Nine

The armor … took some doing.

"I'm sorry, we don't have the equipment to fabricate or modify armor here, Sergeant," said the armorer, a Specialist named Tripwire. "And even if we did, I wouldn't know how to use it. Clone armor comes standard, and it fits like a glove because our bodies are all the same." The armory was a tent with one of its sides rolled up, situated next to the mess tent at the center of camp, just where it would have been in a First Order camp. Easy to get to, no matter where you were, if there was an unexpected need to rearm or change weapons load.

"But what about your Jedi?" Finn asked. "They don't have full armor, but they've at least got something. Or Kenobi and Skywalker do, at any rate."

"The Jedi get their armor from the Temple, not from me," Tripwire said. "Not that they wear much of it."

"And what happens if you gain weight? Or lose it, on a long campaign with fewer supplies?" Finn asked. "What happens if you get switched to a different job and your muscle configuration changes because your activity profile does?" Basic Stormtrooper conditioning was always the same, of course, but many specialties had additional special training or duties, and that always affected things.

Tripwire and Kano exchanged glances. "We're all fed the same thing, so any changes tend to be battalion-wide," Tripwire said.

"But if you can't modify the armor, all that means is that everyone's armor fits wrong," Finn pointed out.

"And while you can get food on the black market special, or sometimes when we're on a planet with markets and people are willing to trade with us, they strongly discourage anyone from eating enough to alter your functioning to any degree."

"Fair enough," Finn said; one of the happinesses he hadn't anticipated about leaving the First Order was getting to choose what he ate and when he ate it. "But you can't tell me that ARC troopers and regular troopers have the same musculature, much less pilots and ARC troopers."

"So?" Kano said.

"You're telling me that you still wear the same armor?" Finn demanded. "Doesn't it chafe?"

"Yeah, but armor isn't supposed to be comfortable," Tripwire said. "And that's part of the point of mass-produced soldiers. You can mass-produce the gear, too, and do you think the bean-counters on Coruscant care if it chafes a bit?"

Finn shook his head. "But it impedes efficiency. Oh, well, it’s not like I’m going to be trying to fight in it anyway.”

“If you have to, we’re all screwed,” Kano said.

“The bodysuit is going to be the real problem,” Tripwire said. “It doesn’t have a lot of give in it … and you’re a full two centimeters taller than a brother. It’d be easier if you were two centimeters shorter, instead.”

“The bodysuit is crawling up my ass,” Finn said, shifting uncomfortably. And it was chafing his dick. Two centimeters didn’t sound like much, but it was the difference between fitting perfectly and … not.

“Could we just cut it in half so it’s pants and a shirt?” Jesse asked. “It’d kill the temperature controls and some of the blaster protection, but it’s pretty temperate here and if he’s not going to be fighting …”

"If we need temperature controls, or are going to be in combat, I can change bodysuits," Finn said.

“Here’s the armor,” Tripwire said, handing over a standard armor crate, just like the ones Finn had used all his life before defecting. He felt a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t tell whether it was positive or negative.

“And here’s the paint and brushes,” Tripwire continued, bringing out a container and a package.

“What?” Finn asked.

“Say, what’s your design, anyway?” Jesse asked.

“My what?”

“Your design,” Tripwire said. “Your paint? Armor-tat? Second face?”

“You know, the stuff you paint on your armor to show who’s in it?” Jesse said.

“Any sign of individuality got punished,” Finn said. “If they knew you had any designator other than a serial number, they would punish you for using it. We were only allowed to take off the buckets to eat, sleep, bathe, and for medical purposes.”

Jesse looked more horrified than he had when Finn had told them about the fall of the Republic. Tripwire sat down slowly on the armor crate behind him. It was, Finn realized, the heart of the difference between the Old Republic's clones and the First Order's troopers. Both were mass-produced and conditioned for battle, both were disposable in the service of their nations, both were designed to be interchangeable.

But for the Clone Troopers, that uniformity had limits. As long as they could fight interchangeably, their thoughts could be as individual as they wanted … and so could their armor. That was … he needed to think about that.

“Well,” Tripwire said, with a determined voice, “here you can put whatever you want on your armor.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Finn said. “Can’t you just … do something apropriate? Ordinary? The whole point is to blend in, so, you guys know more about what type of paint would blend in than I do.”

“Of course not!” Jesse said, voice rising in horror. “It’s your armor. Your paint! Your second face! Kriff, Finn, you just—you just don’t mess with another man’s paint!”

“So, I’ll think about it, figure something out,” Finn said. “Once I get a design, can one of you paint it? I don’t know how to paint.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know how?” Tripwire said. “It’s just regular paint. I know curved surfaces and plastoid take a little bit of getting used to, but it’s not that bad.”

“I’ve never painted anything before.”

“Well, it’s not that different than drawing, then. Just draw the outlines and fill them in.”

“I’ve never drawn anything before, either.”

There was a silence, for a bit, as the two clones digested that, faces drawn. Finn stood there awkwardly, not sure why they were so profoundly shocked by this. He got why never being allowed to take your armor off was horrifying; even he had known it was bad, back when he’d never had any experiences outside of the First Order. And the Resistance members, the few he’d talked about it with, they’d all agreed with him. But none of them had ever even mentioned anything about art. None of them really made art, that he knew of. But to Tripwire and Jesse, no artistic experience was unthinkable.

“Tempera used to be part of the training cadre, he’d know how to teach art,” Jesse said at last.

“All I’ve got is paint and markers for the armor,” Tripwire replied, “but I think the quartermaster has more. I KNOW he’s got tablets and styluses that are fitted with a basic drawing program.”

“Okay,” Finn said slowly. Looks like he was getting art lessons. It wasn’t very practical, but on the other hand, what else was he going to do while they waited? It’s not like they could send him out on missions, the clones had the regular garrison duties taken care of, and there were only so many hours per day that he could debrief.

The first thing they had done, once reaching Coruscant, was to give Bail every file they had about the contract that had produced the clone army.

"That is all that you know?" Bail asked incredulously, looking over the reports. "I've always known there was more to the story than the bare-bones account that the Senate was told, but I assumed you knew it and just didn't want to share for some reason. Classified for the war effort, possibly. But you never investigated it at all, did you, once you'd discovered it. A mysterious army was dropped in your lap just as war breaks out, and you never asked any questions."

"The Force moves in mysterious ways," Master Windu said stiffly, "and we had rather more immediate problems at the time. You yourself voted for the bill that gave the Jedi authority over the clone army, and turned us into officers. Since then, we have had very little to spare for investigative work."

"Yes, but I assumed I could trust your competence," Bail said, matching his tone. "From this, that doesn't seem to have been the case."

"Oversight is the Senate's responsibility," Master Windu replied. "Even if it had been classified, you had a right to ask—either in person or on the Senate floor—to see that the investigation had been done, even if you were not cleared to see the results. And what do you think would have happened, if we had refused to take command of the troops until the investigation was complete? Or if we had admitted publicly that one of our members had gone rogue and ordered this without our knowledge or wish? Or diverted significant attention from the war to continuing the investigation? You're the Senator, you tell me."

Bail sat back, stroking his beard. He hated to admit it, but Windu had a point. After Geonosis, the whole Republic had been caught up in war fever, so focused on the need to punish the Separatists that any delay or foot-dragging was seen as treason. And that was just public opinion; if Finn was correct, and Palpatine was a traitor bent on destroying the Jedi, he would certainly have been able to use any reluctance to his advantage. "So you chose expediency and political considerations over doing your job fully."

"Yes," Windu said. "And how many times, Senator, have you and your colleagues done the same?"

Bail nodded unwillingly.

"In any case, what's done is done," Windu said. "Recriminations at this stage will get us nowhere. We need proof of Palpatine's treason—or loyalty—and we need to make contingency plans."

"What did you have in mind?" Bail asked.

Ahsoka stepped off her ship and locked it, clasping her cloak firmly against the wind. The problem with going incognito on her own was that anyone who knew anything about Togruta could see that she wasn't fully mature yet. As a Jedi, she had become a legal adult when she was apprenticed. Young, and still needing supervision as far as the Jedi were concerned, but an adult as far as anybody else was concerned.

Undercover, without Jedi status, nobody who knew what an adult Togruta looked like would believe she was one. Her montrals were too small and stubby.

She hoped that as long as she kept her cloak up, nobody would notice. Or maybe mistake her for an adult of another species.

Ship locked and docking fees paid, she got herself a room for the night and began looking up medical supply companies. There should be a fair number—this planet was known in the region for its medical supply companies—and hopefully she'd find one she could order from over the holonet and have it delivered to her ship, with no need to talk to a sentient being who might remark on her age.

She couldn't wait for her montrals to get their full growth. Missions like this would be so much easier.

"The first step," Tempera said, "is just to get you used to creating." They were sitting side-by-side at a table, thankfully with no one else in the tent with them.

Finn was getting really tired of being stared at. He'd been stared at when he first joined the Resistance; it wasn't like they got defectors from the First Empire every day. But they'd all been busy, and nothing he could tell them about the First Order and how it treated Stormptroopers was a surprise to them, not really, and if First Order defectors were rare it wasn't as if they'd never happened.

Time travel made him absolutely unique, and most of what he'd told people about his life experiences was a horrifying shock, and they didn't have much to do until Commander Tano returned with the specialized equipment and droids needed for neurosurgery. They had a lot of time to stare at him. Tempera hadn't, so far; Jesse had talked to him about art lessons out of Finn's presence, and Tempera had been nothing but matter-of-fact since he'd shown up. It was a nice change.

Finn sighed and turned his attention to the functions of the tablet Tempera was showing him, how he could produce lines of different thicknesses and colors, how he could erase what he didn't like, and so on.

"Good," Tempera said, after quizzing Finn to make sure he remembered what he'd been shown. "Now draw whatever you want to draw. Scribbles and doodles and random stuff is fine, don't worry about whether it's good or not. You don't have to show it to me if you don't want to." He turned to his own tablet and began … doing something on it.

Finn pondered the instructions for a bit. "Tempera?" he said. He had an awful feeling this was going to start another round of horrified stares.

"Yes, Finn?" Tempera said, looking up from his tablet.

"What's 'scribbles and doodles'?"

[shadowsong26fic]

May Fourth Bonus Fic: Part 3

Title: It’s Like Deja Vu (All Over Again); Part 3

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: R

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Padme Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, etc.

Warnings: War, violence, referenced genocide, referenced murder, these two dorks and their AOTC angst…

Summary: Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again in a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme put the finishing touches on Corde’s headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back.

Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren’t happening exactly the way she remembers…

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Bonus fic! May the Fourth be with you :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Coda

Somehow, things didn’t seem quite so bleak the next morning.

It’s not that he doesn’t want this, she reminded herself. He said that himself. It’s that--he feels that he can’t have it. I know what’s that like.

It was, in fact, the exact same position she’d been in the first time around. Which meant that he would come around. Eventually. Just like she had.

Hopefully, it won’t require another mutual near-death experience…

In the meantime, she just had to be patient, and trust in his love for her. It didn’t really make it hurt any less, and it sure as hell wasn’t easy, but it was something she could do.

The two of them settled into a routine of sorts after that--discussion. Anakin wasn’t avoiding her--he was too faithful a protector to do that--but he might as well have been. She would catch him looking at her, sometimes, with a wistful, longing expression on his face; she knew he had caught her doing the same. But they never touched, not even by accident, and only rarely spoke. There were certainly no more picnics in the meadow, or long, intimate dinners, or desperate confessions by the fire. They simply--existed, side by side, in the same time and place, but unable to intersect.

It was complete and utter agony. The second-worst week of her life; beat only by the one leading up to her death in the other timeline.

And he--he seemed tired now, drained; she knew he wasn’t sleeping well.

Neither was she.

She tried to at least get some work done. If nothing else, it filled the time. And, even if she was out of contact for safety reasons, there was still research she could do; memos or even bills she could start drafting, to act on when she finally returned to Coruscant.

The time was...less than productive. It was impossible to focus, with Anakin so close, and yet entirely out of reach.

And then, finally, in the early afternoon of the third day of this hell, everything changed.

“Padme?”

She looked up. She was in her study; he’d been out in the garden until about twenty minutes ago, running saber drills. She had watched out her window for a while until he finished his kata and disappeared from view, then returned to her desk.

He was tense, his hands hidden in his sleeves again.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I have a...there’s a...situation.” He paused. “I need to show you something. May I?”

“Of course.” She cleared a bit of space off her desk, and he set his comm on there, keying up a recorded hologram.

One she remembered.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s tinny voice came through the little speaker, “my long-range transmitter has been knocked out. Retransmit this message to Coruscant. I have tracked the bounty hunter Jango Fett to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is to take delivery of a droid army here, and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala. The Commerce Guilds and the Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku, and are forming a--wait. Wait.” He pulled out his lightsaber, met by blaster bolts and then disappeared from view, replaced by a pair of droidekas.

“Oh,” she said.

“Master Windu is going to help him,” he said, studying the empty space where the hologram had been. “But Coruscant is--far. I have to...please understand. This isn’t--this isn’t about what we...what we discussed the other night. And I know I...made a promise. I know I have a responsibility to you, I know where my duty lies. I was given strict orders to stay here and protect you. But I...I have to go help him. He’s...I know he’s still alive, and he’s in trouble, and he’s all--he’s my--he’s like my...” He trailed off, then turned beseeching eyes on her. “Please, understand.”

“Of course,” she said again, without hesitation. Even if she hadn’t agreed with him already, she never had been able to resist those eyes. “I understand completely. Of course you need to go. I’ll go with you.”

“I...what?”

“I’ll go with you,” she repeated. “That way, no promise of yours is being broken. Besides, I can help.”

“What--no, Padme…Padme, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know exactly what...what he’s facing.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t let you--”

“You can’t stop me,” she cut him off evenly.

He blinked.

She softened her voice. “He’s my friend, too, you know,” she said. “And even if he wasn’t, I owe him--you know what I owe him.”

He nodded. “Yes. I remember.”

“So,” she said. “You can do what you like, but I’m going to go save Obi-Wan. If you want to follow your orders and protect me, you’ll just have to come along.”

“I--” He cut himself off, and smiled at her, a slow, crooked smile. The one that meant adrenaline and adventure and explosions but damn it all if he wouldn’t come out with a stunning victory in the end.

She really loved that smile.

“I guess I can’t really argue with that,” he said. “I’ll go and get your ship prepped, then. Milady.”

“You do that,” she said. “I’ll meet you there.”

He bowed and turned to go, picking up his pace until he was almost at a dead run when he hit the garden.

Only then, when he was out of sight, did she let herself sag a little, worried.

Geonosis.

Where Anakin would lose his arm.

Where the Clone Wars were about to begin.

I...may have overreached, Padme thought.

They were standing in the chariot in the arena’s staging area; the cuffs were digging into her wrists; Anakin was ramrod-straight and silent at her side. Attempting to rescue Obi-Wan had gone exactly as well as it had the first time.

She’d hoped--she’d hoped that, with Anakin on a more even keel, between Master Jinn’s prolonged influence and the fact that he wasn’t still reeling from his mother’s death, they might have had a better outcome.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. We’ll get out of it, probably, just like we did before, but--I exposed us to unnecessary risk.

Well, it wasn’t entirely her fault. He had been planning to go by himself. At least this way, he wasn’t here alone.

She stole a glance up at him. His head was bowed, his eyes closed. Preparing himself, for what was about to happen. So far as he knew.

The Geonosians fluttered around them, and at last he stirred a little.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, quietly.

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid to die.” She wasn’t. She’d been through that once before, after all. And it wasn’t the dying so much as how it had happened.

And--the leaving people behind. Obi-Wan, Bail, her children...

She took a deep breath, as everything crystallized into perfect clarity around her. Now or never. Whether things change from here or not, if you don’t take this moment, you will never get another one. “I’ve been...I’ve been dying a little bit each day, since you came back into my life.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Padme…”

“I love you,” she said, and she realized--maybe that had been her mistake. On the balcony, in the meadow, even by the fire--she’d been so caught up in the moments, in the history she was trying to save that…

She hadn’t said it. Not in those words. Not straight out. Not in this lifetime.

And Anakin--Anakin needed to hear these things. He always had. Which meant she needed to say it. Explicitly and often.

I’m sorry. Oh, my love, I’m sorry.

He sucked in a little, strangled, almost sobbing breath. “You love me,” he said. “But--we...we talked about this. We would--I would--if we--it would destroy our lives.”

“I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway,” she pointed out. For a given value of ‘destroyed.’ Even if--even though we survive the arena, there’s still the war on the horizon. She met his eyes, held his gaze. “And I don’t care about that, anyway.”

“Padme,” he breathed.

“I truly, deeply love you,” she said, enunciating each word carefully. “And before we die, I want you to know.”

For a split second, he did nothing, just looked into her eyes, searching for--something; she didn’t know what. Then he nodded, once, and smiled softly, and he leaned down, as far as the restraints would allow, and--

For the first time since Padme had woken up in this strange, altered past, Anakin kissed her.

It only lasted a moment, before the Geonosian guards pulled them apart and the chariot began to move, but--

Anakin had kissed her, at last.

Anakin loved her, still.

Despite the danger all around them, she smiled, and shifted her hands in her bonds just enough to brush his fingertips with hers.

He smiled back down at her again, eyes soft and warm and finally showing all the love she knew he felt, melting the pain away to nothing.

And for that--for that alone, that look in his eyes, that smile, it was all worth it.

With the taste of him still sweet on her lips, she squared her shoulders and held her head high as they entered the arena and the First Battle of Geonosis began.

She reached the landing platform at a dead run, her heart in her throat. So much had changed, so much was different than the history she remembered, that even though everything here on Geonosis had gone almost exactly the same--

When she rounded the corner and saw the body on the floor, she stopped.

Count Dooku’s sightless eyes stared up at her, mildly surprised above the still-smoking hole in his chest.

That...that changes everything.

Would there even be a war now? Well, maybe--Dooku wasn’t the only Separatist leader--but would it be as long? Would it be as terrible?

Everything--everything from here on was up in the air. Even Qui-Gon Jinn’s survival couldn’t have changed things this much. Except, maybe, in changing Anakin just enough to let it happen.

And Anakin--

She spotted him, a few feet off to the side, dazed and semi-conscious, a deactivated, borrowed lightsaber hilt dangling from his left hand.

His only hand.

“Ani!” She stepped hurriedly past Dooku’s body and knelt at his side, splaying one hand lightly across his chest and tilting his chin towards her with the other.

He blinked confusedly at her for a second, then his eyes finally focused. “Padme,” he said. “You’re...you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him, resisting the urge to kiss his hand.

“Good,” he said. “Good. That’s...that’s good.” And then his eyes slid shut and he slumped against her, unconscious.

She held him close for a long moment, reassuring herself that he was still breathing, his heart was still beating, he was just--hurt.

He survived this before. He will again.

And then she remembered where she was. Witnesses, Padme, she lectured herself, then gently lowered Anakin to the ground.

Without kissing his forehead, tempting as it was. She was sort of proud of herself for that.

She took a breath and looked up at the clones who had accompanied her. “The--the Jedi need medical attention. One of you--is one of you a medic?” There should be one, this was a full squad. But she wasn’t supposed to know that yet. And they hadn’t really started differentiating their armor much, so she couldn’t have picked him out anyway.

“Uh, I am, Senator,” one of them said, stepping out of line and saluting her. “CT-6116.”

“Right,” she said. “Do you...do you have a name, or just a number?”

“Uh.” He shifted a little uncomfortably. “They call me Kix, sir.”

“Right,” she said again. “Is there anything I can do to help you, or should I just get out of your way?”

“You’re injured, too,” Obi-Wan pointed out from across the platform. He hadn’t moved since she’d arrived, which worried her a little.

...wait, I remember this. Anakin told me; Dooku cut him, severed a key tendon or maybe damaged a nerve cluster? Whichever it was, it was reasonably easy to fix with bacta and maybe a minor surgery, but for the moment, his wounded leg would not bear any weight at all.

And he wasn’t wrong about her. The scratches on her back twinged, and she could feel them start bleeding again as she shifted away to give Kix room to work--he seemed to have taken her question as permission to go ahead and do his job--but, comparatively…

“I can wait,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” he said, and carefully sat up. “Thank you,” he added, after a beat. “For trying to rescue me.”

“Of course,” she said.

And then she almost--almost went on; almost told him what she and Anakin had said, what they had almost done.

But she stopped herself, just in time, and shut her mouth. They hadn’t technically done anything yet that would need to be confessed. And, while she did want to read Obi-Wan in this time, as soon as it was practical, she couldn’t do that without Anakin’s approval.

Maybe I’ll tell my sister, too, she thought absently, watching as Kix got Anakin secured on a stretcher and moved on to tend to Obi-Wan. And my handmaidens. Rather than just letting them fill in the banks. Maybe Bail, too?

She would give the idea some serious thought. True, each person they brought in on the secret made it a little less secure, but a wider support system would probably be better in the long run, for both of their peace of mind.

A second squad of troops arrived as Kix was getting Obi-Wan loaded up, to secure the landing platform, and she could no longer delay getting dragged off by the medics herself.

But that was okay--Anakin was being seen to, and so was Obi-Wan. And she knew where to find him later, after his surgery. When he was stable and conscious and able to talk.

And then, she thought, leaning forward to allow the medic easier access to clean her wounds, then, I figure out my next move.

Because, with or without Dooku, there was still a war to win. She had a lot of work to do.

He can never know what I’ve seen. It would break him. And I will not let that happen.

She had bullied her way past the Jedi healers to see him, just like last time, and whispered, “Marry me,” in his ear.

“Marry me. I can’t lose you.” Again, she’d added silently, resisting the urge to tighten her grip on his hand.

He had held her gaze for a second, as if memorizing her face; fixing this moment in his mind forever. His eyes were clear; he was in some pain still, but not enough to cloud his thinking, and he wasn’t too heavily sedated. His answer would be real.

“Yes,” he’d whispered at last, and squeezed her hand. “Yes, I will marry you.”

And now they were here again, on the balcony at Varykino, making true vows under false names; his metal fingers cool against hers, his mouth warm and soft by contrast.

Everything was different now. She couldn’t predict what might happen next. But she knew, in her heart of hearts, that it would be better this time.

As if to prove her point, Anakin smiled down at her, shy and sweet and achingly beautiful. She smiled back, weaving her fingers tighter in with his, and made a second, private vow.

I’m going to get it right this time. I’m going to save you. I promise.

[in-retrospeck]

Messy Thoughts on Zero Hour

spoilers and a long post, you’ve been warned 

Part I

love that opening shot of the twin moons. a pretty obvious callback to the previous episode, which is nice 

a heavy rendition of thrawn’s theme, which prepares us for what’s to come 

of all the brilliant plans, who ever thought of hijacking a mouse droid?? well done kallus, you’re a true spy 

wow thrawn must truly love grandeur if he’s putting in so much effort into “hiding” from a rebel spy he knows is listening 

did he tell konstantine about kallus?? konstantine sounds so confused, and why would thrawn withhold that information from him? he knows he’s not the spy... maybe thrawn just likes toying with konstantine 

that look of shock and concern on kallus’s face... he’s come so far and he’s a true rebel now 

oh my goodness things seemed so peaceful on atollon but that changed so quickly

i love that spacedad-spaceson talk oh my goodness 

it’s been so long since they had a conversation like that, i missed it so much

look at all those ships soon to be gunned down 

kriff someone should tell general dodonnna never to speak wishful thinking aloud 

wow thrawn is a true drama queen, second only to darth vader 

OUCH okay those were quite a few solid blows 

what the... what did thrawn do to kallus in that small skip? when did his hair get all mussed up? and the bruise around his eye?? the cut on his lip?? that couldn’t have all been from that fight thrawn what did you do to my son 

what the kriff thrawn had a slideshow prepared and everything 

maybe kallus tried looking for the base himself too, that’s why he thinks there’s no base 

ohhh kriffff the pain on kallus’s face when he realised he was the one who revealed the rebels’ location and that it was ultimately his fault 

thrawn kept true to his word... he did use fulcrum against the rebellion 

there’s the promo clip 

WHAT HAPPENED TO RYDER 

so i guess they’re delaying the attack on lothal 

ohh the gravity wells from stealth strike 

i don’t know much about thrawn’s history, but what makes him want the rebels to feel defeat so much? 

hera is a true military tactician, did anyone else see how quickly she figured a way to turn the tables?? 

did kanan not tell hera about the bendu?? wow so much for the trust of a spacemarried couple 

love that rex-zeb dynamic! two veteran leaders just bantering... 

thrawn knows wayyyy too much about his enemies 

you can feel the immediate tension between konstantine and thrawn wow 

thrawn sounds so lofty here, as if he can’t be bothered to deal with ambitious underlings like konstantine 

kriff they’re taking heavy fire everywhere 

i love the way they animated bendu’s eyes in this scene. they only reflect one speck of white light each, and beyond his dialogue, tone and gestures, you can tell he’s mad 

same kanan, i’m just as done 

fpj, bless you and your voice acting skills. your performance is amazing here. they beautifully convey kanan’s frustration towards the bendu 

man you can tell kanan’s striking a nerve 

oh kriff the screams of the unnamed pilot who blew up... that’s a somber reminder that real people are dying 

sato no sato no sato n o n o n o 

kriff he’s gonna do it 

i’m crying over those two unnamed brave souls who decided to stay with sato 

i can’t watch this 

good job konstantine you’re falling for sato’s trick 

but beyond that konstantine showed his fatal weakness here: his desire for glory 

it’s been hinted at since the beginning of season 3, when thrawn came into command 

you can tell he’s grown tired of thrawn being in charge and want to snatch the glory for himself 

wow twenty episodes later and konstantine’s still salty that thrawn’s a grand admiral 

rip sato, his two loyal staff, and konstantine, thank you for your service 

don’t worry sato i’m sure filoni will make your nephew mart step up 

kallus’s shock oh my goodness 

was he shocked at the violence or that sato sacrificed so much? he shouldn’t be so shocked tbh, he’s the one who risked everything as fulcrum 

“petty battles” that’s nice bendu 

weather-conjuring powers? 

glowing eyes?? 

vanishing??? 

bendu what even are you how powerful can you get 

YES BEAN’S COMING BACK 

kriff that was an emotional rollercoaster if anything 

Part II

“sabine’s baby” did i ever mention how much i love her 

hera’s so worried about kanan aaaaaa

go faster kanan please 

i love how they used the shield generator from ghosts of geonosis. it helped so much 

thrawn’s theme as he fires upon the base is intimidating and absolutely terrifying 

he’s making kallus watch as he destroys everything he’s tried to build up 

the look of relief on hera’s face when she hears kanan again 

“i have the feeling thrawn’s actually trying to kill us this time” you got that right, kanan 

first time i’ve heard hera’s nervous laughter and i empathise 

can’t leave the mask of course 

WE’RE GONNA SEE SABINE 

HEY LOOK THE LAKE IS MELTING LIKE I PREDICTED 

wow i didn’t think i’d be so glad to see all the mandos again 

now that he’s a rebel kallus now deserves the honour of snark and laughingly taunting his colleagues 

the civil war’s happeningggg just not in this season 

ezra’s so done with people not being willing or able to help 

did... sabine paint one of tristan’s shoulder guards? 

DID SABINE PAINT ONE OF TRISTAN’S SHOULDER GUARDS??? 

OH YES SHE DID 

IT’S A CAT 

i guess she couldn’t go so long without painting something 

nice shot zeb 

dang it thrawn always surpasses my expectations he’s so kriffing smart 

what the... it can be entered?? that is one huge design flaw 

HI WEDGE 

also never underestimate the space dad 

woah okay thrawn’s ground assault plan was so successful

it only began to fail when a cosmic entity fought him 

for someone who appreciates art, thrawn could afford to begin the jedi mythology 

woahhh bendu pulling all the stops i see 

he also needs to chill 

wait so do they have random space suits laying around now? 

well i think those thrusters are the closest thing you’re gonna get to a jetpack, ezra 

better listen to the bendu, everyone 

ap-5′s frantic walk though, i don’t think his model was built to run 

hoho bendu’s mad 

what a nice love tap 

oops you made hera mad too 

kanan you know she’s the one person you shouldn’t anger look what happened to josh gad 

thrawn just get away from atollon 

wait firing on the bendu worked?? he could’ve just deflected the blasters with lighting or something 

well done ezra and sabine!! i missed seeing them work together and blow stuff up 

be careful of what emotion can make you do, pryce 

oh too late 

throw him out of the airlock? couldn’t you just shoot him? 

that smirk hehe 

smirk no. 2 hoho get rekt stormtroopers 

ezra you make your mom proud 

HAH good job kallus now just don’t die 

escape pod, good okay he’s almost there 

come on come on come on rescue himmm

zeb save your friend HURRY UP 

don’t die kallus don’t die don’t die d o n t d i e 

ALMOST THERE 

SHE GOT HIM 

HE’S GONNA BE OKAY 

KALLUS LIVES 

I’M ACTUALLY CRYING AND SCREAMING SO HARD 

I WAS SO SCARED HE WAS GOING TO DIE 

AND NOW HE’S JOINED THE REBELLION PROPERLY 

I’M SO HAPPY 

oh boy pryce helplessly watching the rebel ships sail past her 

she knows it’s not gonna turn out well for her 

i hope we see more of her development 

aahhh the ‘seeing’ aspect brought in again 

did i... detect fear in thrawn’s voice? 

okay good luck thrawn that’s definitely foreshadowing 

did bendu straight up vanish? like just... poof? 

okay between thrawn and bendu i don’t know who’s creepier 

that silent pat of acknowledgement kanan gave zeb... you can tell he’s glad that he’s alive too 

YES GET INVOLVED IN THE CIVIL WAR 

please

the hesitation on kallus’s face breaks my heart. he doesn’t know if he’s going to be accepted in the rebellion 

at least he knows he has kanan’s acceptance, alongside zeb’s 

that genuine smile ohh my son 

that contemplative shot of the silent rebels just tells you that they’re feeling the heavy losses, and it’s not easy 

ezra sure does love that spot 

love that final conversation between father and son 

there’s still hope for the future of the rebellion 

now that was an amazing episode, i can’t wait for season 4 

[multi-muse-transect]

Toll part 1

AU: Sometimes, the past always comes back to us. Whether we like it or not. Mira Wren Bridger and Blare Koizo know it well. Mira belongs to @meldy-arts  Blare belongs to me. Toll part 2 will be a prequel.

Trigger warning: Deaths and self harm.

Jedi Temple

Blare Koizo, age fourteen, practices her lightsaber skills in the Jedi temple. Her favorite lightsaber fighting style is seresu earning her a nickname with the young lings the wall since she has great reflexes and can block incoming blaster fire. Her master is Coleman Trebor, a Vurk Jedi. She could feel the next shot coming now from the training droid....Blare quickly blocks the shot but unknowingly diverts it to Trebor who is coming into the training room causing him to whip out his lightsaber and quickly block it.

The padawan has slightly short hair with a braid and wears a typical outfit for a padawan which is robes and pants. Blare has an excited and cocky look on her face as Coleman rolls his eyes then lifts the cover from Blare’s eyes causing the padawan’s smile to turn into a frown.

“Um....Master!” Blare said in fear. Coleman smiles then sighs. 

“Blare, you have the force. The force tells where all living things are.” Coleman said causing Blare to sigh.

“Sorry master. I can’t focus on everything at once.” Blare apologized. The Vurk taps her on the shoulder and crosses his arms behind his back. 

“Which is why you should use the force for more than just one thing. The force is everywhere, we are bind by it and part of it. Its your extra set of eyes.” He explained.

“Just like you have three sixty degree vision?” She joked. Coleman chuckles lightly. 

“Yes but I use the force also.” Coleman answered. Blare always liked Coleman, he was wise and somewhat goofy like Kit Fisto. His communicator goes off getting his attention. The Jedi’s eyes widen then looks up to Blare.

“What happened?” Blare asks.

“Stay here! Something big has happened on Geonosis!” The Jedi runs off leaving the confused padawan.

She couldn’t believe it. Coleman Trebor is dead. He was shot by Jango Fett during the battle of Geonosis. There are times she wished it was her but she lost count of the times. Blare stands before the body of Trebor with the body being lowered and sealed to be incinerated. She is wearing traditional Jedi robes. 

Blare shakes her head as they all leave. Obi-Wan notices Blare and walks up to her before she leaves the pyre room and leans against the wall while pulling back her hood. Mace Windu walks up to her.

“Blare.....I know its heartbreaking to see your master dead. I’ve seen this numerous times in fact...” Windu sighed.

“But he would’ve wanted you to keep fighting. War has begun Blare and we need every Jedi in this....” Blare sniffs and sucks up her tears then turns to Windu and nods.

“So....Do I get a new master?” She asks him.

“Yes in fact, his name is Pong Krell.” Windu introduces her to the tall Jedi who looks down on Blare. Blare looks in awe at Krell and his height before smiling and nodding at Blare.

“A pleasure to meet you Ms. Koizo.” Krell said.

Its been two years now, Blare is now sixteen years old and still at the Jedi temple. All her padawan friends have gone to fight in the Clone Wars....All except for her. Krell’s training is intense and demanding, he treats her like a soldier in fact like all his clones. She always wanted to fight but Krell just kept judging her and saying how she’s useless!

Blare blocks more shots from the training droid causing her to simply slice it in half while her eyes are covered. She takes off her helmet seeing in shock of what she’s done. 

“By the force....” Blare muttered. Standing in the door is Bariss Offee looking in shock causing Blare to freeze in fear. 

“Bariss! I’m so so sorry! I-I didn’t.....I lost control and all!” She tries to come up with an explanation. Bariss walks towards her and takes away her lightsaber then looks at it.

“You know, there’s a way to channel that hatred and anger towards your master....A skill called Vaapad.” Bariss spoke causing Blare to raise her eyebrow. 

“Um...Isn’t that Mace Windu’s talent?” Blare replied.

“Yes indeed but it can be mastered. You must become a conduit of the dark side while using it as a weapon while having light within you.” Bariss explained causing Blare’s eyes to widen. 

“But....Okay that explains how Windu fought mother Talzin.” The Jedi has a look of doubt before Bariss hands her a data pad showing how Vaapad works. 

“Thank you Bariss, you have no idea what it means to me. I’m tired being here in the Jedi temple while others suffer. Krell is no better than the Separatists.” Blare thanked before Bariss walks away 

Blare closes her eyes as two training droids float. She focuses all her hatred and opens her eyes but only sees blackness which is good since she wearing a cover. Blare roars and swings her saber at the first droid which fires a round at her but she blocks it hitting the droid and injuring its partner before she makes a quick swing.

She takes off the cover seeing that both droids were destroyed at once. Blare makes a laugh but suddenly coughs heavily. She isn’t used to the dark side at all. Little does she know, Ahsoka is watching as she could sense the dark side within Blare. Blare then realizes that Ahsoka is watching her causing her to switch back to the light before walking off.

The young Jedi flings her pillow against the wall now. Krell was revealed to be a traitor and tried to get the clones to kill each other during the battle of Umbara. She began to like Krell after they talked, saying his explanations on why he’s tough on Blare because he saw how much potential she has and its too early for her to be fighting. For the first time, she began to trust Krell. Blare looks at the ceiling of her room pondering if she is the most unluckiest Jedi ever....

She hears a knock on the door causing her to turn to see Ahsoka with a worried look. Blare gets up. 

“What is it you want Ahsoka?” Blare asks since she trained with her when they were young but never really close. In fact, Blare was never close to anyone.

“I’m here to talk to you....I’ve been hearing stuff about you.” Ahsoka replied before sitting next to her.

“About me being the most unlucky Jedi? Yep, those are true....First Coleman and now Krell. I don’t know if any of the order still has Jedi to teach me....” She sighed. 

“Blare...I don’t know you much but I can tell you want to fight in the Clone Wars.” 

“Let me guess, you’ll throw the its dangerous and I have so much to live for....Ahsoka...I don’t know much about you either too. You’re one of the big shots though.” Blare observed. Ahsoka gives a small chuckle.

“And you were always the tall quiet type.” Ahsoka replied. Blare could feel something for her....Is she....Falling for her? She knows Ahsoka is the same age but attachment leads to the dark side......

“Why do you want to fight in the Clone Wars?” The Torguta asks. Blare sighs in response.

“My mother....Was a retired Jedi who saved people and my father was a village farmer turned chief. Before I was taken, I’ve heard stories about the Jedi and how heroic they were. Ever since I came to the temple, I yearned for actions and waited till I received the call....” Blare explained remembering her mother.

“Blare, you do know how chaotic the Clone Wars is right?” 

“I know but I don’t care....I’m ready to die for something good.” She replied. 

“You’re very noble Blare....But now isn’t the right time.” Ahsoka said.

“I know....I just....I just want to know when is the time.....” Blare sadly sighed.

The call has been received. Blare is finally fighting in the Clone Wars alongside master Aayla Secura. She waits in the drop ship with her saber set and ready to fight. The Jedi master smirks at Blare’s enthusiasm since she did hear about how much of a good seresu practitioner she is. The drop ship opens to reveal the planet of Christophsis, the squad they are assigned to a group of clones as they are basically the cleanup crew for any stragglers of Separatist forces. 

As always, blaster fire. Blare tightens her grip on her lightsaber before squinting her eyes at the hatch. The hatch opens to reveal incoming battle droids shooting at them with Aayla going in first blocking the shots and Blare coming in second. She force pushes the droids first then throws her lightsaber like a boomerang at them before the rest of the clones do the trick.

“Nice one!” Aayla complemented. 

“I learn from the best.” Blare replied knowing that this is going to be a long war.

This was it. She became a Jedi Knight finally after so long, she wished that she would see Coleman Trebor’s face and how proud he would be. Blare walks in the halls of the temple with a proud look on her face.....She feels that something is wrong. 

Blaster fire is heard. Its coming from standard clone trooper fire causing her to run towards the sound of it.....She makes a turn at the hallway but suddenly stops to see the clone troopers aiming their guns at her. Blare simply blocks all the shots before using the force to grab a trooper then slice him in half. She could feel the darkness flowing within her....And its making her sick. Unlike Sith, Blare isn’t used to the dark side and has a low tolerance to it. Blare goes back to the light and looks around then runs to the ship bay. Blare sadly sighs before going into the ship.

She’s back at her village again now, its been a year since order sixty six was initiated. Blare is now twenty one years old much to her surprise. The village is hidden in the mountains so there’s a small chance of having an Imperial raid on them. She found out her mother died just recently after a commando droid got the sneak on her much to Blare’s sadness. Throughout the months that followed, Blare began to learn about vaapad and practiced it but her tolerance to the dark side is weaker than most....

Blare soon could feel a presence causing her to stop doing her farm work. As if...A chill is in the air. Something is coming. Something horrible. They found out where she is. She runs back to the village and goes into her father’s house. 

“Get everyone out of here now! The Imperials know I’m here!” Blare yelled. 

“B-But what about you?!” Her father replied.

“.....I’ll be alright, just go!” And so they went. Every man, woman, and child left the village except Blare. She knew this is where she would die. It wouldn’t surprise her, such a beautiful scene. But she won’t go down without a fight though....Blare taps into the dark side and senses the TIE fighters coming causing her to reach out towards them. The pilots inside feel like they are being choked before pulled out of the ships as they scream and crash on the ground dead. Stotrmtroopers arrive next as Blare switches back to the light and walks towards them while blocking their shots before tapping into the dark side again then force choking them. The troopers die as Blare coughs heavily since its too much for her then goes back to the light once more.

A drop ship lands to reveal a couple of Inquisitors causing Blare to activate her lightsaber. The first inquisitor spins his lightsaber towards him but she sees through his tricks and sticks his saber through the loop then destroys it while another leaps towards her as she quickly memorizes her vaapad move and channels his dark side energy into her to counteract him. The two exchange swings with Blare dodging all of them right before she slices him in half while the other inquisitor picks up a blaster and shoots at her but she force grabs him and forces the inquisitor to shoot himself. Blare sighs in exhaustion now and goes back to the light.....

She hears a breathing sound causing her to turn around. Darth Vader himself. Blare has heard stories of a strange man in a black suit armed with a lightsaber. The title though....Indicates Sith origins.

“I sense the dark side within you.....Take this as a test to see if you would be worthy to be my apprentice.” Vader spoke. Blare huffs heavily and runs towards Vader while yelling. He can tell that Blare knows vaapad but wants to see the extent of her dark side tolerance. Blare throws a swing at Vader who blocks it. She absorbs Vader’s dark side energy but Vader can tolerate as Blare begins to throw more swipes at him but like always blocks it. Minutes turn to hours as Vader blocks everything Blare throws at him....Suddenly, Blare simply disappeared in front of his eyes much to his curiosity. Blare quickly appears behind Vader and throws a swipe at his back injuring him. Vader blocks all swings realizing that her swings are at a speed of mach three but he can intercept them at the same time. He has made a decision now. 

Blare coughs heavily while throwing swings at Vader as he can tell she is worthy now. Her swings slow down giving Vader an advantage to punch her in the face and knocking her out. The ships arrive with Vader carrying the unconscious woman and walks up to a trooper.

“Take her to stasis, I have plans for her.” Vader ordered the trooper before he nods. The trooper enters the ship with Blare in hand.

Blare slowly opens her eyes as she is on her bed and looks up to the steel ceiling of the poltergeist. Its been a week since they have defeated the Acolytes of the Beyond. The same dream she has been having....Blare simply sighs and gets up. She notices that Mira is gone for some reason. The two became friends but Blare found herself falling in love with the bounty hunter which gave her doubts of her position as a Jedi....

“Mira?” Blare called while looking. She goes the bathroom of the ship....Mira has hand palmed against her face while she sniffs as she is sitting on the toilet in fetal position wearing a sleeveless shirt and black shorts There’s blood on the ground as Blare looks at her wrist in shock.

“What did....What have you done....!?” She gasped.

“Sometimes.....You remember the things......You aren’t supposed to remember....Memories come back to remind you of how much...How much of a fuck up you are.....” Mira replied. Blare quickly gets some bandages then applies some alcohol on Mira’s wrist before wrapping it on her wrist. 

The two sit on the couch of the living room of the ship. Just silence but a comforting one. Mira huddles up to Blare as she looks at her. The two look at each other for a moment. Two broken women who are lost and confused but found something in each other.

“......I’m so sorry.” Mira apologized.

“Mira.....Just please.....Don’t do that again.” Blare pleaded and held her close tightly. 

“I’ve lost so many people....The Jedi, my masters, my family....I don’t want to loose you.” She tears up as Mira has an emotionless look on her face but tears up also.

“Funny....I lost everything too. Everyone I cared about left me or I left them...” Mira replied.

“I guess we’re on equal footing.” The Jedi smirked.

“I just....I just feared that my parents would see me as a killer, they would deny me and they would leave in terror. See me as a monster who used to be their little girl....And they’d leave....Just like everyone....How much of a failure I am....” Mira said. 

“Mira....Listen to me, I’m never leaving you. That’s a promise.” 

And with that, for the first time in years, Mira cried. But it was silent and solemn. She soon falls asleep on Blare’s chest.

“I love you Mira Wren Bridger....” Blare whispered before dozing off.

[goingnerdyofficial-blog]

Star Wars Rebels Mid-Season Premiere: Ghost of Geonosis

The last episode of Rebels before the fall break left us with a number of questions. Will we finally see Obi-Wan? Will Maul get his revenge or will he finally become one with the force? What is Sabine going to do with the Dark Saber? Last weekend’s mid-season premiere answered none of those questions, but it did start the second half of the season off with a bang. This is a review of that episode. While there aren’t heavy spoilers in this review, there are enough that you should be warned. So if you haven’t seen the Star Wars Rebels Ghost of Geonosis part 1 and 2, turn back now. Otherwise, you’ve been warned.

What We Know About Geonosis

The mid-season premiere sends the Ghost crew to Geonosis in search of a missing rebel team led by Saw Gerrera. In an earlier episode, the crew discovered that the inhabitants of the planet were mysteriously gone. Saw’s team was sent to find out what happened to them. Now, I’m not one to judge the choices of Rebel High Command, but sending a team lead by a man who lost everything because of the Separatists to a  Separatist planet on a fact-finding mission, doesn’t seem like the smartest move. Just saying. For those who read the novel Catalyst, you know that the Empire used the Geonosian people to build the main aspects of the Death Star. The Darth Vader comics show us that at least a portion on the planet's population was moved to what looks like a prison. But with the Geonosians moved from their homeworld, we know two things: the Empire ran out of uses for them, and those that stayed behind were massacred. The real questions is how did they do it? And of course, that question is answered in the episodes. At the end of the first episode, Ezra and company find a survivor of the extermination who they dub Klick Klack. As the story progresses, Klick Klack takes the crew further into the hive and eventually shows them giant canisters of poison gas put in place by the Empire. Now, I have to point something out. Throughout the episode, Ezra and company continually refer to the Geonosian people as Bugs. The Empire committed genocide against these bugs by putting poison bombs into their hive. I find it somewhat funny that the Empire decimated the population of the Geonosian people using a bug bomb. Then, I instantly feel bad for thinking that’s funny because it’s genocide.

Saw Gerrera

Speaking of Saw Gerrera…

I don’t know if I like him. Granted, Saw is not meant to be a likable character, but he is an important one. The Star Wars powers that be saw fit to at least mention him in a number of books in the last year. He has a callout in Bloodline, at least one of the Aftermath books, and he is directly featured in Catalyst. His character shows that there were extremists in the Rebel ranks. Saw was willing to destroy the Empire at any cost. He did not concern himself with causalities, be they military or civilian. But it’s that type of attitude that makes the Empire sympatric in the eyes of those who buy into their propaganda or who simply don’t know any better. As far as Saw in Rebels, his actions seemed too over the top. Which, I guess, fit his character perfectly. Personally, he came off as one dimensional. But I don’t think we have seen the end of the Onderonian Rebel leader, so maybe we will get to see more sides to him than we have seen so far.

Stronger Jedi

It’s been three years since Ezra became Kanan’s padawan, and since then, we have seen the pair grow in their force powers. In the mid-season premiere, we got to see how the two have grown, not just in their force powers, but as a team. There’s a moment at the end of the first part where the group needs to cross a large chasm. Like we have seen in a few episodes before, Kanan uses the force to throw Ezra. When we’ve seen the two do this in the past, they always seemed to struggle. This time, they were totally in sync. Kanan throws Ezra. Then he uses the force to hold a bridge in place. Finally, like a bad-a, Kanan leaps across the chasm. If there was ever a time for a mic drop, that would have been it. When Ezra and crew finally capture Klick Klack, Ezra acts as an interpreter with the last remaining Geonosian. Now, I am assuming he uses some kind of force empathy to understand what the bug is saying because it’s clear he is not speaking basic. I like and dislike that he can do this. I would like it a little more spelled out that understanding random languages are something that Ezra can do, but I don’t think there is a way to do so that isn’t completely on the nose.

Sabine vs Ezra

We get to see a little bit more of Sabine in action in this episode. He quick thinking saves her and Zeb from a marauding group of Droidekas. They weren’t marauding but they were menacing. And she takes on an elite group of Rocket Troopers pretty handily. In an interview a few months ago, Dave Filoni to expect Sabine to take a more prominent role in this season and I am excited to see more of her. Especially when she becomes the Mandalore and the Mandalorians join the rebellion. I just don’t see how Ezra is ever going to woo Sabine if he keeps it up with the teenage angst. But I am still holding out for those two crazy kids to get together and eventually leave their offspring on Jakku.

How could these two not have cute little Jedi babies?

The Imperial Presence

This wouldn’t be an episode of Rebels if the crew didn’t get into some scrape with the Empire that seemed impossible but that they were all too capable of getting out of. At the beginning of the second episode, or halfway through the story arc, an Imperial light cruiser shows up. The captain of the ship looks like someone we have seen before. Rae Sloane. We first meet Captain Sloane as she escorted Count Vidian to the Gorse system where we first met Kanan and Hera. In the Kanan comics, She tries to single-handedly capture the last padawan she let escape in the Gorse System. We eventually see her after the Battle of Endor when she attends the Summit on Akiva in the book Aftermath. Things happen and Rae becomes Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax’s right-hand man…or woman. The key point is, the woman’s a big deal. What leads me to believe that the captain of this light cruiser is the eventual Vice-admiral of the Imperial Navy is the suspicious lack of a name and her overall look. Not to mention, she would be a captain at this point in her career. I know it’s a long shot, but never tell me the odds.

Overall Thoughts

For a season that has been hit or miss with the value of its episodes, the mid-season premiere was definitely worth the watch. It connected us to Clone Wars, Rogue One, and potentially to the First Order. It also sets a tone that the rest of the season, which, I hope, is going to be awesome. What did you think of the Star Wars Rebels’ mid-season premiere? Leave your thoughts in the section below.     Click to Post