#I'm in my isbs feelings

[100hearteyes]

The beautifully tragic thing about ISBS Clarke imo, as we've seen from her backstory, is that she refused to let the world strip her of her agency by relinquishing it herself. That was her act of resistance: making sure that it was her own choice not to have a choice.

[pileofsith]

Nameless Part Six - Provocation Page 2/7

The Grand Inquisitor is luckily not beneath an awkward 'hello'.

Note: text in angle brackets is speech in Utapaun language.

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[martianbugsbunny]

Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

[seth-shitposts]

Kallus, Ezra, Sabine, and Kanan get put on what's supposed to be a purely diplomatic mission, a civil chat over fancy tea party. In kallus spent half of his prep time researching proper etiquette and the other half researching the people they're supposed to be dining with. Sabine helps him with the etiquette portion, having some experience. Kanan is tasked with the debriefing and being Kallus’s second set of eyes. They do a lot of preparation for this mission, while Ezra, with the assistance of either Kallus or Kanan, spent weeks creating a friendly foundation with the other group.

Anyway, the four of them are at the teaparty and right at the beginning, as they're sitting down, the host and his partner have to be pulled for an emergency.

Host: my apologies, lady and gentlemen, we must attend this emergency swiftly. While we're dealing with that, feel free to chat amongst yourselves and please, fill up on the snacks. There's plenty more the kitchen will be sending.

As soon as the host leaves, Kanan begins inspecting the tea carefully, as well as the pot.

Kanan: nothing seems to be poisoned concerning the tea. Alex, did you grab the eval- Alex what are you doing-

Kallus, who is already on his third berry macaroon: no one touch any of this. They used a diluted mixture of cyrptberry in the paste.

Ezra: how can you tell? I don't see any of the indicators you said to look out for.

Kallus, moving on to a tarte: I can taste it. It's usually quite distinct, but it's so far diluted with much more overpowering sweet fruits that it is drowned out in both colour and taste.

Sabine, reaching over to slap the sweets out of his hands: stop eating it!

Kallus, holding the sweets out of her reach: I'm fine, I have a resistance. Besides it's best to make them think we aren't on to them so we can at least by time to get out of here. Kanan, when they get back, tell them how delicious the cannoili is- the ricotta is perfect, tangy taste, dense texture. Say how you love the berry mix supplement.

Ezra, reaching for said cannoli: wait they made it the right way too?

Kallus, swatting at Ezra’s hand before he can touch the poisoned dessert: Ezra, don't touch. The ricotta has traces of Erami.

Kanan: Erami?!

Kallus: Sh! Yes, voice down.

Sabine: How are you fine with all the poisons you're putting in your body??

Kallus: I survived both lower levels of coruscant and ISB training this won't do shit to me-

Kallus: oh and Sabine when they get back, excuse yourself to the restroom. Chopper will be looking for you.

Ezra&Kanan: you brought Chopper?

Kallus: yes, who do you think has been keeping our gracious host too busy to tend to the guests he's trying to poison?

[nicki0kaye]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he lost it to Thrawn.

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

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

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

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

[mayawakening]

Ezra's Gamble Notes Pt.1

Friends, I was not expecting the book 'Ezra's Gamble' to be such a goldmine of lore. 😭 I'm gonna need to talk about this in multiple posts.

What I've got so far:

-----SPOILERS------

First of all, the foreword: "For Alan Harris, who is a much nicer fellow than Bossk." Harris was Bossk's actor. ❤

The book takes place pre-Spark of Rebellion

We literally start the book with Ezra at the Lothal spaceport pickpocketing and finessing people out of their valuables.

He walks up to a rich-looking Chagrian wearing an Imperial pin and being followed by four blue Twi'leks and manages to sell him 5 tickets for a private booth at a gladiatorial cage match (that the Chagrian is implied to want to keep secret). Ezra finesses him out of 700 credits, then also steals his Imperial pin, his ring, wrist-comm and half his money pouch.

He winks at one of the Twi'leks and all of them giggle, one of them winks back at him. (He's 14)

He meets up with a Xexto named Ferpil Wallaway who is actually the one who taught Ezra how to steal!!

The cage-match ticket money gets sent to the commissioner, then Ferpil pays Ezra for his loot at the Pawn-shop he owns on Lothal.

Ezra gets flagged down by a red-haired friend (also 14) named Moreena Krai. Her family is leaving Lothal because Imperials condemned their farm and took it from them.

Y'all I was not ready when she said she was moving to Alderaan. 😭🥺

Moreena starts to get sad about Ezra being alone, Ezra cuts her off and says "Don't ever feel sad for me. I've always done just fine on my own, and I always will." BOY TELL THAT TO HERA. 💚

He briefly wonders if he'll ever get to steal a TIE pilot helmet. (Spoilers, he does lol)

Lore for Bossk: his ship 'Hound's Tooth' is a modified Corellian Engineering Corporation YV-666 freighter. He's employed by the Bounty Hunter Guild and his Imperial Peace-keeping Certificate number is #55946112.

Bossk was headed to Lothal searching for a Dug named Gronson "Shifty" Takkaro who was wanted for jumping bail in the Ahakista System.

Bossk picked up the bounty from the Imperial Enforcement DataCore.

Bossk's ship was scanned by the Imperial Spaceport and the official talking to him immediately transferred his call to ISB HQ. (He was on hold for 30 seconds.)

ISB Lieutenant Herdringer talks to him and tries to send Stormtroopers to arrest Shifty rather than let Bossk collect.

Bossk counters saying Herdringer would be interfering with the authorized acquisition of a government bounty. Herdringer realizes that would be bad for him.

Herdringer actually wants Bossk to not use firepower as Shifty is in a civilian sector. Bossk says okay, but still brings his Mortar gun. Bossk gets escorted to the spaceport by TIE fighters which Bossk thinks is WAY too conspicuous.

This random academy propaganda played on a speaker at the spaceport though: "You too can be a part of the Imperial family! Don't just dream about applying for the Academy, make it come true! You can find a career in space: Exploration, Starfleet, or Merchant Service. Choose from Navigation, Engineering, Space Medicine, Contact/Liason, and more! If you have the right stuff to take on the universe, and standardized examination scores that meet the requirements, dispatch your application to the Academy Screening Office, care of the Commandant (Aresko), and join the ranks of the proud!" ---(I wonder how Kallus felt about hearing that kind of stuff, I'm assuming his office was soundproofed, but he did still technically work in the same building as the school, and seemed used to having things delivered to him by cadets, im sure he heard it occasionally.)

Ezra knew what a Trandoshan was on sight. He tried sneaking up on Bossk's ship, but Bossk snuck up on him first.

Bossk appeared to be avoiding his stormtrooper escort and asked Ezra (who actually gave his real name!) Where the tavern he was looking for was.

He's very suspicious of Ezra and warns him against snooping in his ship and notices his weapon right away. "An energy slinghot. Cute."

Ezra tries to finagle 100 credits out of Bossk for information. Bossk says he doesn't have time to haggle and will give him 1000 credits for help. Ezra demands 500 up front and Bossk pays him. He also politely gives Ezra his name.

He only refers to Ezra as "Shorty" and insists that "to you, its MR. Bossk" lol.

--------

Will continue to take notes, this is fun!!

[randomfandomblabdom]

I wrote this in a rant I posted about my love for Cal and Merrin's relationship recently...

There are several interactions they have in gameplay that I'm lowkey peeved weren't included in cutscenes and one of them is when Cal returns to the Mantis after all but demolishing the ISB, they have this really short but great interaction where Merrin says that if he ever feels that way again, he needs to tell her. She doesn't even ask him to do it, she all but demands it, "If you feel that way again, you will tell me." She's demanding communication from him regarding the darkness and he doesn't fight this demand at all. He agrees to respect this request and I fucking love that from both of them. I will genuinely be kinda upset if we don't get a moment like that in the next game.

...and I want to talk about it more.

Cal's struggle with the darkness in Survivor, especially towards the end of the game, feels very similar to someone struggling to not fall hard into an addiction. At least to me. I'm sure others have interpreted it differently but I'm a little biased because I have struggled with addiction in my life and unfortunately, merely telling someone about it can only go so far in terms of turning your life around or keeping it at bay. If that person is someone you're hoping will help hold you accountable or someone you can talk to if you're struggling, you can't just assume that that person will simply know when you risk completely losing yourself. These types of things can be really easy to hide or difficult to pick up on, they can emerge so slowly to the point that even the person struggling with it doesn't realize how bad it's getting before it's too late. It requires communication between partners/friends (whomever this person is to you) to truly make it work. They know what you struggle with and they'll hopefully be willing to support you through hard times but you also need to put in the work and tell them when you're struggling and when you need that support, you can't just expect them to know how you're feeling or what you need and that goes for many things when it comes to relationships, not just managing addiction. It's scary. It requires being vulnerable about some really hard-hitting and difficult-to-discuss topics. It requires being embarrassed that you maybe fell off the wagon or feel like you're about to. It requires trusting someone with a possibly very dark side of you.

Merrin demanding that Cal communicates with her openly about the darkness he's struggling with feels a lot like she realized upon actually seeing it in action that it's a bit more than she expected and while she's more than willing to walk with him through it if he needs it, she can't be relied on to spot it all the time on her own. It's not a task that can be placed solely on her. That's unrealistic and unfair. Perhaps she thought he was fine going into the ISB if even a bit angry and hurt. They all were. It makes sense that he would be, why would any of that be a sign of this darkness he's afraid of? But she quickly found out that he was much more far gone than she thought and if she couldn't quite pick up on it then, god forbid she doesn't pick up on it should it happen again and it's much worse.

He told her about this fear of losing himself and she took it in kind, told him she'd be there, is willing to support him...etc. but he needs to communicate how he's feeling because even though they joke about it, she can't actually read his mind. Him communicating this to her can help her understand what he might need. I'm not saying she's his mother or therapist or doctor, she's not at all but this is something they need to work together to confront and him being able to openly express things can also help them get ahead of it before it gets to the point of where it was at the ISB. It's a demand that seems to come from a place of love and protection for both him and what they share.

And you know what? I love that he doesn't fight this demand whatsoever. He agrees to it immediately. I think he scared himself honestly. I think he knows that for this to work, he's going to have to be open about it. I don't think even he realized how far gone he was and this communication begins happening in this very game in a moment that I don't think gets talked about enough. When they get to Tanaloor, Cal and Merrin go off to find Bode and during their conversation in gameplay, Cal does express that he feels much hatred towards Bode. There's nothing she can do about how he feels per se but she's aware of it now as they're going into what could be a very, for lack of a better term, triggering interaction. It's a very, very small moment but I think it does show that he's respecting her wishes in terms of communication.

I don't really know how to end this, I have no thesis or whatever, I just needed to express a few more thoughts on that moment and I hope it came out right.

[kitkatt0430]

My progress may be slowed by carpal tunnel but not stopped!

Anyway, here's some stuff I've been working on lately.

“And in other news, the illegal broadcast known as The Genocide Report has once again spread lies about the Empire. It’s latest slanderous allegations blame Imperial forces for the Caamas Firestorm that led to the eradication of all life on the Caamasi home world, a terrible natural disaster that occurred approximately fourteen years ago…” “Turn that off.” Alex looked over at Captain Zataire, who’d voiced the command. Hiram Zataire, who had a son with known rebel sympathies. The question was, of course, did Zataire share his son’s loyalties. As a storm trooper rushed to turn off the Imperial News broadcast, bringing the ship’s bridge into silence once more, it didn’t exactly seem unlikely.

From the Genocide Report fic idea that I couldn't resist turning into an actual fic series, this is from the very first scene of the fic. Alexsandr Kallus, ISB Agent, has just arrived on a Star Destroyer over Lothal. A place far away from Coruscant where he'd much rather be digging for information on the Jedi massacre from the end of the Clone Wars. He figures that eventually being 1/2 of the Genocide Report team is gonna get him killed, so he'd like very much to get that information disseminated before he gets executed for treason. instead he's been sent to Lothal to root out sympathizers - funny, he is one - and the local rebel cell - that he's hoping to make go quiet long enough that he can get a better assignment.

Of course, Kallus is about to meet the cell and get the shock of his life when he realizes that one of them is a Lasat. And then he has to figure out what to do with 'Jabba' aka Ezra Bridger. So many headaches headed his way and that's before he finds out that the former bartender in the rebel cell is actually a not so former Jedi too.

He couldn’t talk to Cisco and Caitlin about what was going on because they had no idea who he was. They’d been Barry’s best friends and now they were strangers. Barry’s speed was gone and the only way to get it back was to let a tragedy happen. Which wasn’t acceptable, but how could Barry stop the accelerator? It wasn’t something he could go to Joe about. After all, Joe was back to believing Henry Allen was guilty of Nora Allen’s death and that Barry had lied to himself about what happened that night for so long that he was little delusional about the whole thing. Iris might believe him, but confessing his feelings to her had put distance between them that would take time to fade. Now was not the time to be going to her with a story about time travel.

From a slowly moving wip sequel to my Hartley, Roderick, and Barry accidentally did mental time travel from the sonic powers/lightning clash at the dam. Barry won't admit it, but learning that Hartley and Roderick are also looking for legal ways to stop the accelerator in time is a relief to him, even if he doesn't want to believe that Wells is involved with the Reverse Flash.

Of course Barry took the opportunity to confess his feelings to Iris before she ever even meets Eddie and... strikes out. Because Iris loves him here, but she's not in love with him. And Barry's finally going to have to accept that.

I'm still tentatively plotting for this series to be endgame Barry/Hartley/Roderick but there's a lot of time before that could conceivably happen that I might decide it'll work better going in a different direction. *shrug*

[writersglock]

The Chimaera Chronicles. 1BBY. Issue 30

Oh dear reader, I have missed you! My duties aboard this prestigious vessel have taken hold of my attention - but I must tell you, dear reader, my fingers began twitching as soon as I sat down to write this column, my mind has been practically ablaze with news and 'the tea' as some of my outer rim colleagues would say.

[I'm looking at you, Senior Leiutenant Pyrondi]

So, pull up a chair, dear reader, and get comfortable.

Ever since I joined the Imperial Navy, I have endeavoured to make friends, I have even procured a few in the ISB (that's the Imperial Security Bureau). I have been informed by a rather loose lipped assistant that his supervisor is fraternising with a clerk from the IBS (Imperial Bureau of Standards).

Now I feel it prudent to clarify that my 'informant' hasn't seen anything unbecoming. But he has noted, seeing the clerk waiting, for his supervisor after her work day (outside the ISB's head office).

Of course, I would never assume there is any impropriety in this act, but I feel it imperative to mention that the Empire has very strict rules on - Romantic liaisons...

Unlike other recent gossip, this morsel of tattle has truly, snapped up my attention. I will endeavour to keep you updated dear readers.

Until the next time.

Yours ever faithfully, Commander Elin Hammerly.

[voidcat-senket]

SW Rare Pair 2023

Fallen Order/Jedi Survivor fills

Cal/Bode:

I Don't Wanna Know Hanahaki Disease | fic | 1.3k | G

Secret Blooms Hanahaki Disease | art | G I Could Use The Rest Injury hurt/comfort | fic | 1.4k | G Plant Your Roots Inside of Me Haunted!Tanalorr | fic | 53.3k | E

take me back to my beginning (before the hell of night set in) Vader’s Apprentice!Cal & ISB!Bode | fic | 88.5k | M

and i love you so much i'm going to let you- End of Game Fixit | fic | 23.7k | T if you're lonely, wake me End of Game Fixit | fic | 1.2k | T

two bros cuddling by the campfire no feet apart cause they're cold Cuddling | art | G

BD-1 Stands for Buddy-1 BD POV | fic | 6.9k | T

Other Ships:

Out of Focus Dagan/Santari | fic | 2.7k | M When One Door Closes Kylo Ren/Rick The Door Tech | 2.8k | M

Cuts Like A Knife (but it feels so right) Dagan/Rayvis | 1.3k | M Shining Brighter Every Day Bode/Cal/Tayala | 1.6k | G Come Here Often? Cal/Han | art | G Together on Tanalorr Dagan/Cal | art | G

open up, here comes the TIE fighter! Boba/Cal | art | G

Gen:

Indigo Cal & Boba as fellow Padawan | fic | 400 | G

[agentsnickers]

Spot and race in the star wars au? (Also big congratulations on the anniversary)

Race doesn't usually get hurt on missions, but when he does it's always more complicated than just an injury. Once, he'd twisted his ankle and it led to him stranded alone on a moon with the ISB agent who'd been tracking them.

Today, he's coming home with a little head trauma, a little emotional trauma... and also he's about eighty percent orange.

He doesn't know what was in that fountain - dye, or something water-adjacent that happens to turn everything it touches orange - but he had wound up soaked to the skin and mottled orange except for his left arm and shoulder. His clothes are orange or orange-tinged now, his skin save for the aforementioned arm is orange, his hair is orange -

"Oh, aren't you a sight," Spot says before he's even walked all the way down the Ghost's ramp.

"I don't want to talk about it," says Race.

"His clothes are a lost cause, and we haven't had much luck getting it off of his skin either," Davey reports anyway.

Spot hisses through his teeth, sympathetic. "Why do things like this always happen to you, Racer?"

"I wish I knew," Race replies. He pushes past Spot. "I'm going to find something else to wear. I was afraid to change into something else of my own, in case this rubs off onto them and ruins something else."

"But Rebellion-issue you have no qualms over ruining?" Spot says, trailing behind him.

"Never."

They walk to the quartermaster in silence, after that, and back up to the room on base that the two of them technically share, for all that Race rarely sleeps off of the Ghost.

"You change," says Spot, nodding toward the door. "I'll be right back, I want to ask Niamh about something."

Race changes quickly, and it's a relief to have the orange clothes off even if the rest of him is still orange. He feels a little bit more himself. And he's happy to see that the orange doesn't rub off onto his new clothes, so even if he's orange for the foreseeable future he can wear his own clothes.

There's a tap on the door. "It's me, can I come in?"

"Yeah," Race replies.

Spot comes in, carrying a little box in one hand. He sits down next to Race on the bed-that-is-technically-his. "Give me your hand."

Race does, without question, because he trusts Spot. Spot pulls a tissue - no, a wipe, it's damp - out of the box and dabs it against Race's hand and, miraculously, the orange starts to fade.

"Where'd you get that?" says Race. "Nothing we tried on the ship worked at all."

"It's makeup remover," Spot says without looking up from Race's hand. "Niamh's. She always says this can take off anything, so I figured it was worth a shot."

"Thank her for me," Race says.

"Thank her yourself, I think you'll need to buy her some more after we're done here," Spot replies.

They work together to get the exposed parts of Race's skin clean - he'll get the rest on his own, thanks - and it's oddly intimate for how strange an activity it is. Their room doesn't have a mirror, so Spot is getting Race's face which, again - oddly intimate. They're very close together, and Spot is concentrating very hard on Race's face, and -

"All done," Spot says, leaning out of Race's personal space for the first time in almost an hour. He tugs on one of Race's curls. "Pity I can't do anything about this, though. You don't make a bad redhead, but it doesn't feel like you."

Race flushes. "Guess I'm just Al's brother 'stead of Charlie's for a while, 'till it fades on its own or I get a haircut."

"You'd be an improvement over his real ones," says Spot.

"Right," says Race. "You're sure it doesn't look bad?"

Spot tugs on Race's curl again. "No, not bad, like I said. Just - I like your hair, it suits you."

"Oh," Race says. He is definitely very, very red now.

Spot stands suddenly. "Anyway, I'll, uh - I'll leave you to get the rest of the orange off, yeah?"

Before Race can respond, he's gone.

[martianbugsbunny]

To Convince You That I Love You (A Kalluzeb Fic): Chapter 4

*spinning around slowly whilst dabbing* This is the last chapter of this fic! I never said it was going to be a long chapter fic, and four is more than I usually get to, but I'm still kind of sad that it's done already. I am, however, considering basically doing an AU of my own fic so I can have this short and sweet version and potentially (don't hold me to it) a longer version full of much more miscommunication and angst before Kallus and Zeb get together. (Hehe.) But for now this is where the buck stops, so read on and enjoy the finale!

Kallus could feel the fog in his brain even while he was unconscious. He was drifting, somewhere in a deep darkness, and he couldn’t see so much as a beam of light to lead him out. Maybe there was no out.

Then he felt a vibration in his marrow. He knew it before he even recognized what it was.

A deep voice cut through the fog. “Wake up, Kal,” it said. And since it was in his bones, how could he refuse?

He opened his eyes. Right there, standing beside his cot, was Zeb. Kallus let his ISB training fall to the wayside as his eyes filled with tears, and he did nothing to stop them spilling out.

He would’ve expected Zeb to be uncomfortable with such a display of emotion. He had, in fact, seen that in action before…regarding other members of the crew, that is. But Zeb knelt down next to the cot (he was so tall, he was still about gut-level with the low frame) and, leaning his head on one hand with his elbow on the cot frame, laid the other on Kallus’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, Kal,” he said, and his voice was so unbelievably tender, yet filled with so much pain, Kallus wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him—for a second. Garazeb Orrelios was the one man, the one person, in the galaxy who could tell him even that the sky was green, and Kallus wouldn’t argue. He had put his life into Zeb’s hands back on Bahryn, and to be honest with himself, he hadn’t taken it out of them since.

As he sobbed, it felt like he was crying out the fog in his mind, releasing the confusion and the haze with his tears. He became sharply aware of the way Zeb’s claws dug into his flesh, each singular point of contact distinguishable from the others.

When he stopped crying, he also became aware of the way he had completely emotionally compromised himself. Even though he wasn’t in the Empire anymore, it was still hard to not think in their terms, and baring your bleeding heart to someone you were in love with wasn’t exactly Empire-approved protocol.

“I’m sorry,” he started.

Zeb rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Kallus,” he said. “You’re hurt, of course you���re going to cry.”

Kallus tried to focus on the pain in his leg and not the irritation he was discovering in Zeb’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “If you worried.”

Zeb snorted. “If I worried? If? I know I’m not the easiest guy to read, Kal, but come on!”

Kallus’s throat constricted. “I wasn’t sure if you…it’s hard to judge how much you….” He trailed off and didn’t bother trying to finish. He wasn’t about to say something stupid and prideful and drive Zeb away.

“Who is it, Kal? I know you don’t love me, and I have no right to worry about you like I do, but I can at least give him the shovel talk.”

Kallus grabbed Zeb’s hand, despite the pain that shot up his arm at the movement and the accompanying spike of nausea. He simply prayed he wouldn’t throw up as he spoke. “Now who’s not doing his reading right?” he asked. He thought his voice sounded slightly hysterical. He wondered if it sounded worse to Zeb. “It’s you."

Zeb stared at him.

“You’ve been doing all those stupid, risky things because of me?” Noticing the look on Kallus’s face, he raised one barely-existent eyebrow. “I’m good at guessing,” he said dryly. "Actually, Sabine figured it out, but I should've seen through it myself."

“That girl's the only one with any sense around here,” Kallus muttered. “I had to be sure you would believe me when I said it. That you would see I’ve worked hard to be a better man, maybe not one worthy of you, but I think I am a decent man now and I really do love you.”

“Kallus, I would’ve believed you if you said it in the middle of the jungle after taking a few days’ leave—which, by the way, the doctor’s ordered you to take. Doing your best for the Rebellion and killing yourself for it aren’t the same, and before you started taking those risks, you were doing your best.”

"I can always do more," Kallus said. "I would give my life to convince you that I love you."

Zeb sighed, taking Kallus's hand in his. "But I'm telling you, you don't have to. And I wouldn't want you to. What's the point of telling me that you love me if you die and leave me alone?"

Kallus was now aware of nothing but those bright green eyes and the warm, strong hand in his own, which felt weak from unconsciousness and pain. It finally reached the processing part of his brain: Zeb wanted to believe Kallus loved him because....

That was why he'd seemed strange before. He'd thought Kallus was putting his life and limbs on the line for someone else—and there was only one reason why that would change his behavior so.

"Say it, Garazeb. I need to hear you say it back."

Zeb didn't hesitate, only pausing to study Kallus's face as though he never wanted to look at anything else as long as he lived, before repeating Kallus's words and making all of the sacrifice and recklessness worth it.

"I love you."

[ask-sad-ghost-piett]

Quick, Admiral!

Kiss, Marry, Kill:

Emperor Palpatine

Lord Vader

Grand Moff Tarkin

[*pained sigh*]

Kill Emperor Palpatine. - Now that I am dead and the ISB is no longer monitoring these sorts of things, I can answer this honestly. I'm not nearly enough of an aurodium-digger to kiss or marry him, and frankly, I think it's absurd that we're all dead and he's still somehow alive.

Kiss Grand Moff Tarkin. - Perhaps on the cheek, though I'd probably cut my lip on his cheekbones.

Marry Lord Vader. - [*sighs*] I would be a fool to deny that Lord Vader was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Empire, objectively speaking. I had... complex feelings about him in life. That is all I shall say on the matter.

-Admiral Piett

[nonhumanhottie]

Andor rewatch

Announcement

Syril's mum is such an important addition to the star wars universe

Mon is ready to fucken scunt Luthen go off queen

Maarva gives me aunt may vibes

Mon really said fuck Perrin and I respect that so much

The way I didn't notice it's clone troopers in the flashback too caught up in Maarva being I queen I guess

My housemate has no idea why I keep groaning in distress at mention of Cassian's future

Housemate so mad at the beach troopers lmao

Narkina 5

Syril just cracks me up

Yularen is still a Sass king good to see you again you bitch

I'm so glad star wars double dipped with Andy Serkis

Oh saw I will always stan you

Nobody's listening!

Not Dr Gorst smiling and waving

Dedra absolutely slays top isb officer

Housemate was so sad about the batshit torture method

The stupid prison PA voice reminds me of Jigsaw in Saw lmaooo

God I love Andy's face. It's just. Everything. It's so much.

Housemate is screaming over Syril's mum

I love how the Narkina 5 plot shows that once communities form, they're tough to break

One way out

Housemate is absolutely living for this. It's the best of the best bestie

Davo really said rich people have no taste

The anticipation of the prison break still gets me

The speeches in this show give me years to my life

'I can't swim' still fucks me up even if i know he makes it out

Daughters of Ferrix

It's so fucked up that the droids have feelings who allowed this

I have so little to say at this point everything is so good

Mon breaks my heart oh my god

You know you've extreme when even Saw is gagged

Housemate is so mad that Cassian didn't hug Maarva one final time

Rix road

I don't even know what to say about this other than its literally A+ star wars

The lesbians in this show are so powerful

Housemate freaking out over Nemik's manifesto

'This is the funeral to be at apparently' - housemate

I'm just flailing like a muppet at this finale

Maarvas speech is peak modern star wars to me

I bet she'd be so glad to know her stone wounded an imperial

I love when Dedra's mask finally cracks

Man I i love this show and I'll happily wait years for the second season if it's just as good at this

[wanderingjedi77]

Mon Mothma x Fem!Reader (Spies)

Summary: You and your long-time friend Mon Mothma must pose as a couple to gain info on Admiral Yularan of the ISB. But you didn't expect to fall in love along the way.

You hadn't been surprised when Mon had asked for your help with this mission. You were good with people and had a way of figuring things out between the lines that Mon admired. Even envied at times. But you were surprised at the way you would have to appear.

Married. To you're best friend Mon.

You had felt nervous at the thought of pretending to be her wife. You had never really thought much about your crush on her before. She was married after all, until she wasn't. But Mon had never really shown anything overly affection in her manner towards you.

Until tonight, when you had met nearby and were set to arrive at Admiral Yularans Gala. It wasn't that extravagant, but he liked to draw attention to himself and his exploits, and this was the best way to do it.

You sighed, your dress feeling a little too tight as you walked next to Mon, eying the other couples and the soon to be couples. It felt awkward. Mon was only recently divorced, though she had heard rumors that someone had caught her eye.

You wondered it she had ever considered you and smiled at the thought of her turning down every other suitor knocking at her door.

"What's wrong?" Mon asks, frowning a little at your smile. "What are you up to?"

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten remarried." You quip.

Mon smirked. "Yes, because suitors are lining up at my door since I divorced my husband."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that anymore, Mon." You wiggle your fingers at her to show your ring. "We're married now remember?"

Mon rolled her eyes with a smile and took your hand, lacing your fingers together. She started to walk down the steps into the entrance way, keeping a firm hold on you.

"I think you're cutting off the circulation in my hand." You joke, and Mon squeezes it gently.

"I'll make it up to you later, dear." Mon leaned over and purred in your ear. You blush and look away, but hope that she means what she says.

"Okay. Later. When we were alone." You reply quickly, trying not to jump away. Why was she acting like this? You didn't want Mon to overdo it just for show.

You move closer to Mon as you stop to look at the ISB officers nearby. You had an in, you're mother had worked for the ISB for years but could never figure out her daughter had turned Rebel. Being with Mon was a risk, but not something you were worried about.

"You don't actually believe he will give up information that simply do you?" Mon asks you softly.

"No. Not at all. It's his reactions I'm looking for." You answer with a smirk.

"You never change do you." Mon says, but there's a fondness to her voice that makes you shiver.

"No. Not even for you." You answer, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Mon watches you, and you hesitate from the look of fire in her eyes before you look away.

"Let's go." You tell her firmly and walk over to the group of ISB agents and their partners. You smiled your way in, and stand near Yularan, not close enough to where he can see you, but close enough to listen.

"Project stardust is well on its way. The Empire is more then capable of keeping its citizens safe."

"But what is it?"

"Top secret. Not even Lord Vader knows. Or so he has said."

"But the Rebels-"

"Will be dealt with swiftly. They will fear the Empire like never before."

You pull Mon away from the conversation, heart hammering and wanting to leave. The whole situation felt wrong, not just the way he had been speaking to the crowd. You waited until you could get Mon into a darkened alcove near the entrance and pulled her in tightly, no one paying you any mind.

"What's wrong? You look sick y/n." Mon reached out and cupped your cheek, the other wrapping around your waist.

"Whatever that project is, it sounds like it's strong enough to take us out." You whisper, feeling awful and leaning into her touch. Mon searches your gaze and nods.

"Then we need to do some more digging." Mon answers quietly. "But first, we need to get you home."

"We need to get more info-"

"Do not argue with me." Mon whispers fiercely. "You're not well, y/n." You sigh and nod against her.

"It's more of a feeling." You admit.

"I trust you." Mon answers softly, and you meet her gaze. She shifts closer, and her hand moves to the back of your neck.

"I know, Mon. I trust you, too." You admit. "I wouldn't have agreed to this mission, or our rendezvous with a fake marriage if I didn't." You wrap your arms around her and settle them around her waist.

"Good. I don't need to lose you." Mon leans closer, and you feel her warm breath on your lips.

"No." You reply. "You'd be too bored." You try to grin, and try to ignore the fact that your heart is going a million miles an hour. "Mon-"

She kisses you, and you feel her push you back into the wall, further enclosed by darkness. It's quiet, and her heart beats in your ears even after she pulls away.

"That was -" You blush, and look at her shyly as she leans in again.

"Home. Now." Mon orders against your lips.

You didn't dare disobey a direct order.

[sasoarts]

I won't give up on my art.

For years, I've been sending the artwork that I'm proud of to the internet, believing that it will be seen. My goal is to get enough people interested in my passion project to gave enough funds to make my lifelong goal possible: to make a physical copy of I See Borderlings, bestiary documenting monsters responsible for strange happenings in a mundane world. The irony is that I'm sending all my hard work and dedication to the void.

It's easy to just surrender and do AI and sm*t, but I refuse to take that wide path. I had tried doing fanart all the time, but it just eclipsed ISB. Part of me feels like making art is just a waste of my time, and my dreams are just dreams. I've had years of college and self-taught experiences, but is it worth it? The algorithm is picky.

I only have a few people interested in the project that I love doing. Despite these trials and temptations that convince me to just give up, I refuse to stop doing art. It's therapeutic, stress-relieving, and fun to do! I won't stop making monstrosities beyond human understanding!

There's a small team of developers that went through something similar, although worse, that I look up to. They made a unique space-fantasy game that I love playing since my boyfriend got it for my birthday back in 2019, No Man's Sky. They are passionate about their project and went through crap after their terrible launch. Heck, even a massive flood threatened to destroy their dreams. Despite d*ath threats, poor reviews, and nature's wrath, Hello Games got back up and continued creating and improving with the help of feedback. Hello Games' determination to not give up encouraging me to do the same for my own project.

Although I can't make money to pay the bills and get a better home for me and my cat, at least I enjoy making it with the few who enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading.