#JUST enough that clone wars & then everything else could flourish off the back of his hard work

[stinkythehutt]

something i enjoy about the difference in star wars costuming from the prequels til now, is that you can tell that in the prequels george lucas had near total control over most of the looks, especially those of the jedi. anakin in ROTS is obv a smokeshow thanks to hayden christensen but he is styled so much like what an old straight guy thought a “cool bad boy” looked like in 2003. the big leather tabard and the mismatched fresh out the bag fruit of the loom brand robes and the mullet and scar that you know george thought was so badass even though objectively anyone with eyes would call it pretty. and his big trousers tucked into his boots lol. anakin in ROTS dresses like the daydreams of a middle school boy who just bought a pleather jacket with his allowance because he wants everyone to know that he just started downloading green day albums off of limewire. and no one has the heart to tell him that he looks like a young winona ryder. contrast that with qimir in the acolyte who you can tell was styled by a woman because his robes look all worn and fucked up and you can actually see his enormous arms and sweaty face and greasy hair & it lends itself an air of danger because it isn’t trying too hard. and there’s a good argument that anakin’s outfits in ROTS are actually reflective of his cringefail personality & inability to get dressed well on a combined 15 minutes of sleep through the course of a week, and I wouldn’t fight you on that, but we all know the truth is that george lucas thought it looked so fucking cool

[uponrightful]

Okay but like what about TBB wrapping gifts for each other👀👀👀👀

Clones and the Holidays Masterlist

Let's see here... ☺️

Gift Exchanges with the Bad Batch:

Hunter:

The Sergeant puts the most of his thought and practice into what's inside his gifts instead of what's around it. He sees what his brothers do on a daily basis, and often sees their needs and wants more so than anyone else. Socks, soap, candy... Comfort items. Things every solider would be more than happy to receive after a month-long deployment. Every mission, every outdoor bazaar, Hunter has his eye out for the little things that his brothers are pining for.

When it comes to giving out gifts, Hunter prefers them to be less... rehearsed. He'll drop the item off -unpackaged- on their bunk, or most occupied seat, leaving his brothers to find them whenever the time comes. Hunter never expects them to realize it him giving them things. On occasion he's noticed the squad's entire mood lighten when they've gotten little presents here and there...

Hunter doesn't mind getting recognition for it. Really, it makes him happy just to see them wearing or using whatever item he's got them. It gives the Sergeant the feeling he's watching out for his brothers, and in the end, it has nothing to do with how they're wrapped or presented to them.

For Hunter, it's the feeling that matters.

Wrecker:

Sweet boy. Precious thing. He's not very good with subtle actions. It's just not in his nature. So when Wrecker gives gifts, he makes the biggest scene of it. He's just so damn excited, and he wants to see the look on his brother's face that nothing else but the present in his hand matters.

Wrecker isn't a fan of wrapping paper though. It's too fragile a task, and he's often too impatient for the stuff. Not to mention finding that kind of thing is hard enough, let alone making up a good enough excuse to keep some of it on the ship and let it take up space.

If he's out somewhere and buys a gift, then Wrecker would spring for the merchant to wrap it up neatly for him. That way it's presentable, and he doesn't have to spare any extra time between getting it back to the ship, and having whomever open it right away. However, if there isn't opportunity for that kind of thing, Wrecker is very fond of bows. They're just enough to provide that feeling of "gift-giving" without detracting from the real situation at hand.

For Wrecker, gifts are a form of affection. And in a war, affection is one thing everyone could use frequently.

Formalities and ribbon aside.

Tech:

When it comes to Tech, tradition and formality are two very different things. And on the topic of gift-giving, there is a very serious condition that needs to be identified before even beginning to think about reaching for a wrapping paper and tape.

Number One. Is the occasion significant?

If it happens to be an important date to one of his brothers, or a special occasion in general, there's tradition to be followed. That means ribbon, bows, paper, and a certain amount of secrecy goes into gifting someone. Tech is very serious when it comes to following the societal and personal expectations of presents are their significance. It's only fair he do exactly what majority of beings in he galaxy do on special occasions.

That being said, if the gift isn't being awarded on a specific date or occasion, Tech isn't likely to pull out any stops. There's a time and place for everything, and wrapping paper and other decorative flourishes aren't always par for application. It's considerably time consuming, and for the most part, Tech has many other demanding tasks that need to be attended to. Besides, the gift itself is proof enough that his attention was being focused on the person receiving it, and the idea of bright paper or other decorations on top of that seems a little more excessive than necessary.

For Tech, it's all to do with timing and expectations.

Crosshair:

Crosshair doesn't give gifts.

Well, sort of...

He won't give gifts if he knows you're watching him. It's partly embarrassment, and part defiance of his own protecting and deeply caring nature. The whole basis of giving a gift means that you've paid enough attention of select some thing or another than the recipient will like or enjoy. And that kind of admittance isn't something Crosshair is going to admit willingly. Although, if someone in the Batch receives a gift from Crosshair it's painfully obvious.

Crosshair is the most traditional in his gift-giving style. The gift is always something small, and more than likely something that has sentimental meaning than actual application. It could be a memento of a particular mission where someone did extremely well, or the sudden return of an item thought to be lost to time and the galaxy.

Always packaged delicately. Carefully. Painstakingly.

Crosshair's gifts are the least received, but they leave such a lasting impact that everyone on the squad remembers every single gift the sniper has given them. Even the style of the wrapping is different. Every present, every man. They're always unique. Much like the sniper than takes the time to find the item, and dedicate his focus into crafting a present that becomes a gift all of it's own.

For Crosshair, it's the willingness to admit weakness.

Echo:

Echo doesn't give presents in a traditional sense either. His often take the shape of an act of service or moment of kindness. He's not one for material things, and find more significance in provided physical or emotional support as a gift. Most of Echo's gifts cannot be tied up in a neat bow, or put into a box and sat on a bunk in the ship. If someone needs to vent, or simply let off some steam, Echo is the first to try and approach them. He's never the first to talk, but his presence alone is normally enough to smooth over most situations and high-strain moments.

However, Echo is much like Tech in the way material gifts are given. He's not a stranger to dressing up a present in one way or another, but given the context of the situation, Echo will adjust accordingly. If there's a personal care item needed during a mission, it's simply dropped off in his brother's personal effects without any personal flare. However, if there's a special occasion, he's quite motivated to make the day or moment a little more significant by putting some ribbon or a little extra on a gift. It's makes his brothers feel special, and Echo is all for giving them a reason to keep going. Even if it is something small.

For Echo, it's about purpose. He wants there to be more than obligation behind his presents.

[the-beskar-alchemist]

Here we go again with my recap ramblings! Had to do a bit of nip/tuck for this one, it’s a bit lengthy.

My opinions, as I've stated before, are based on my limited knowledge of the Star Wars universe. I have NOT seen anything outside of the movie franchise, so please bear with me...

- First off I would like to express my appreciation for this episode going balls-to-the-wall with Ashoka, instead of spending an unnecessary amount of time working towards her introduction. Considering we spent two episodes just GETTING to her, the fact that it was like "BAM! There she is!" was very refreshing.

- Also I would like to thank Filoni for establishing her badassery UP FRONT, instead of having her do some sort of "Surprise! These are my special skills!" maneuver. The concept hit home on the first try, and it hit HARD.

- I know people are iffy with Rosario Dawson (I'm not that caught up on her to know the details myself), but she does bring a certain......presence, I guess......to this episode, but just as the character, not really HER specifically.  She seems more powerful when she's silent, versus when she speaks, her portrayal of the dialogue seems kinda monotone for my taste honestly. (I think it's worth mentioning that, while I understand people wish for Ashley, it would involve "black face" makeup on some levels to achieve Ashoka's skin-tone, I don't think it would've worked, no matter how skilled the makeup artists are)

- The ghastly forest makes me think of the lighting technique they used for The Half Blood Prince film

- As I've said, I have not seen the Clone Wars series, so I'm not familiar with Ashoka's animated fighting techniques, but I do love how practical she is with the lightsabers in a dark setting, turning them off to avoid too much attention, and only turning them back on right when she's ready to attack to really take her enemies off guard

- Din narrating to the baby has me in my feels a bit, this dude is really going through the motions isn't he? He's trying so hard to keep it together, acting like he's fine that his whole world is about to change in a way he's not fully prepared to handle.

- Can we take a moment to discuss how observant the baby is? He may not know about circuitry to help with ship maintenance, but he has the wherewithal to know when he's headed to a place that's potentially harmful. Episode 7 in season 1, when Din mentions going back to Nevarro? The baby immediately tries to adjust the ships trajectory to avoid going to a place of which his only memories consist of him being experimented on and possibly almost killed. And NOW? Now he recognizes that the name of the planet Din is taking him to will be where they separate, so OF COURSE his first instinct is to, not only avoid leaving Din's side at the pilot's seat, but to also seek out one of the few tangible objects that brings him comfort: THE METAL BALL FROM THE LEVER........baby boi is so smart, we do not give him enough credit

- Baby REALLY didn't want to leave his papa.......also DIN LET HIM KEEP THE BALL PLS

- Din walking through the town reminded me of the Two Towers when the party arrived at Rohan and Gimli was like "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard"

- I have to wonder what was going through Din's mind upon seeing the prisoners in the electric cages. I'm sure he was disgusted, but everything presented in this series is VERY deliberate, ergo Din was meant to see this to IMMEDIATELY establish that this magistrate was someone he wouldn't want to be allied with, a feat that could've been established with the intro into the town alone, but it seems that the best way to really drive home just how terrible these people are is voyeurism.

- The town versus inside the magistrates gated home? Night and day. The contrast is intriguing, how "dead" the town looks but inside the second gate there's life, somewhat flourishing.

- If Din KNEW that the magistrate was referring to Ashoka, than he basically tricked her into helping him find her under the guise of making a deal. If not, than he figured it out during their first fight upon seeing how she maneuvered around him. Either way, we stan one smart cookie.

- Lang reminds me of Number Two from the Austin Powers series

- BATU BATU BATU BATU

- I love the fact that Din is including the baby in his bounty hunting process, not just telling him they've reached the coordinates, but also letting him know to start looking, IT'S BRING YOUR SON TO WORK DAY......(but like EVERYday for him tho.....)

- Okay but like LOGICALLY I KNEW THAT BESKAR CANNOT BE DAMAGED BY A LIGHTSABER BUT MY HEART STOPPED FOR A SECOND

- DIN PACING LIKE A NERVOUS DAD IN THE DOCTORS OFFICE, POOR BABY

- I have to wonder how the baby "talks" via the Force, is it full "sentences"? Clipped "sentences"? Or is it kinda like Renesmee from Twilight where she "inserted" visuals into another person's head? I know they can "feel" each other's thoughts, but I've always wondered exactly HOW they "feel" them...

- I understand people are a little put-off by the lekku, and that cosplayers have done it "better", but we have to remember that cosplayers aren't doing (multiple) fight scenes, the head-piece has to be practical in its design, as well as authentic. There are stunt-doubles, and having to create multiple versions that not only can withstand constant movement, but also won't break easily. Not to mention when you try to do a live-action based off an animated series, it almost ALWAYS looks "wrong" on some levels (live-action anime? it's awkward af, no matter how hard you try...)

- About the Grogu controversy: I'm on the fence, but will most likely come to love/appreciate the name. Is it within the realm of what I was expecting? Nope. Is it possible that we are ALL projecting our own ideas of what name the baby "should" have had, so much so that almost ANY name they would've given him would've sounded "wrong"? VERY distinctive possibility......this is Star Wars after all, names are meant to sound "weird".  Grogu sounds like a Star Wars kind of name, in fact it's kinda fitting for a species that looks reptilian-ish

- THE BABY HEARING DIN SAY HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME, THE WHIPLASH IN THAT HEAD-TURN, BUT LIKE.....I love the slight parallels to Grogu's and Din's name-arc: They both went DECADES without hearing their own names, and the reveal's are so contrasting, Din hears his name during a time when he's in danger, the baby hears his while having a heart-to-heart. I'm curious about how Din was feeling in this moment, thinking about how long Grogu must've gone without hearing his own name, and how Din longs to have someone say HIS name with an almost reverent tone

- YODA NAME-DROP.....but also Grogu looked at Ashoka when she said the name, I wonder if he knew Yoda

- Some people have mentioned Ashoka's lekku not being long enough for her age, I'm wondering if they compensated with the "wrinkles" in it? Can lekku have wrinkles?

- Grogu trying to be good for his papa, but also NOT wanting to use his powers because he KNOWS it would mean that papa has to leave him (and Din's little head tilt to get him to cooperate) I JUST....I CAN'T

- Ashoka telling Din to connect with Grogu, and Din shifting around all like "LOOK ITS BAD ENOUGH I HAVE TO LEAVE MY SON WITH YOU, CAN YOU NOT MAKE THIS HARDER FOR ME???"

- FATHER AND SON GAME OF CATCH AND DIN'S EXCITEMENT WHEN GROGU CAUGHT THE METAL BALL, MY OVARIES CANNOT TAKE THIS MUCH FLUFF

- Subtle Anakin reference, given what happened to the younglings after he went dark, it's a good thing Grogu was taken.......but by WHO???

- Din calling the lightsabers "laser swords" and Ashoka's little grin like, she WANTED to correct him, but she was enjoying Din's dorkyness???

- Din trusted her enough to let her borrow his pauldron??? I HAD A MOMENT

- DIN GUNSLINGER DJARIN

- Did my eyes fucking DECEIVE ME?? DID ASHOKA CUT THE SPEAR IN HALF????? Like this is the second time I'm watching this, the first time I noticed it I was like "No fucking WAY", but I'm seeing it AGAIN, IT WASN'T A TRICK OF THE EYE....so beskar is only lightsaber RESISTANT??

- Lang vs Din was like Johnny Ringo vs Doc Holliday, "You're no daisy!"

- More name-dropping. Did Ashoka kill Elsbeth? They never show her after the exchange.

- Din could've jetpacked his way back to the ship, but chose to walk instead. The way he avoids actually waking up Grogu at first, holding him for a bit, then taking the time to get him ready. Din baby who are you fooling? You're not ready, and you never will be.

- DIN STICKING HIS FINGERS OUT TO LET GROGU HOLD HIS HAND

- Ashoka knows okay?? She KNOWS that Din and Grogu are meant to stay together

- Din calling out Ashoka for trying to weasel out of the deal vs calling out Bo-Katan for changing the deal: No malice in his voice, he barely put up a fight, then sounded relieved after she gave him an alternative, one that could lead to the baby deciding NOT to become like the Jedi and instead choosing to remain with this buir

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) kyr'yc STAR WARS

Kix had been frozen for fifty years.

Everything he had loved, everything he had fought for - it was all gone. Everything had been destroyed because Kix had failed. He had failed Fives, failed Jesse and Rec - he had failed the Republic and the Jedi, and now it had all been ruined. His brothers had been brainwashed and killed all the while Kix slept on in stasis, unaware of it all happening, not even knowing that he wasn’t still sleeping in his office, desperately following the trail Fives had left behind and being driven mad by it.

He must not have been careful enough, because he had been taken before he could bring his information to the High Generals. Taken and frozen and lost for fifty years.

He’s the last clone alive. He had missed Rex by almost thirty years - Rex who, according to records, had lived beyond the fall of the Republic and the slaughter of the Jedi. Rex had survived to be an old man and had helped the Rebellion overthrow the Empire. He had died in his sleep almost thirty years ago, believing himself to be the last, and unaware that Kix had been stolen and frozen the whole time. Rex had died as an old man, and Kix was alone before he had even been aware of it.

Kix moves through life in a haze after he wakes up, untethered and alone and without a reason to continue on, but still he moves, unable to stop. He’s living in a galaxy not his own, lost and trying to find anything that could make him feel whole again. He’s a clone alone in a galaxy that never wanted him, without the brothers that had surrounded him from the moment he had been decanted. Even when he was lonely, he had never been alone, but now - now he has nothing and no one.

Clones were never never made to be alone; they were made to operate in teams, they were designed to work in cohesive units. They never coped well by themselves, it was something even the Kaminoans had known, and had stopped forcing them into solitary after the massive rise in suicides that they had had to deal with. Clones preferred death to being alone, they fell into depressive, self-destructive spirals if removed from their networks, and the massive number of deaths that had followed the introduction of one-man survival missions had convinced even the Kaminoans to stop separating clones from each other when it had gotten too costly.

It’s hard, not eating his own blaster now, especially on bad days when he wants nothing more than to go see his brothers once more. He sees Rex and Jesse when he closes his eyes, he hears Hardcase’s laugh, Fives’ voice, and Echo’s bad jokes. He imagines sitting in their bunkroom on the Resolute, eating snacks that Jesse had smuggled onto the ship, watching Dogma braid Tup’s long hair while Jesse and Hardcase wrestle at his feet and Fives and Echo bicker about the most ridiculous of subjects. Rex would have watched from a distance, needing to keep up the image of their strict Captain, but eventually they’d manage to wheedle him into joining them. They would sleep in a clone pile, surrounded by warmth and brothers and the feeling of safety and home. Kix would always wake up alone though, reality sinking in once more, and - Force, he wants that again.

He wants to be surrounded by his brothers again, to be with people who understand him on levels no one else does. But he can never do it, not matter how much he wants to. He can’t bring himself to pull the trigger because he sees Coric’s sad eyes every time they’d have to lie on another form after another body had been found with a hole through their heads, he sees Rex’s desperation as he talks brothers away from the edge. He remembers Fives’ shaking hands after Lola Sayu when they’d had to wrestle a syringe out of his grasp, and the broken, wailing noises he’d made afterwards.

They’d want Kix to keep moving, so that’s what he does. He stays with Ithano and his crew for a time, enjoying wild jaunts across the Galaxy hunting for treasure and adventure, but he doesn’t stay with the pirates and they don’t force him to. He drifts for a time, and gets lost once or twice. He finds the remains of the 332nd’s crashed ship and cries in front of Jesse’s grave, holding the cracked, weathered helmet in his hands as if it were his brother, apologizing to the thousands of beings he had failed and the brothers who had died because of him. He doesn’t want to imagine Jesse’s last moments, but it’s hard not to when he sees the jagged cracks in the helmet Jesse had oh-so lovingly painted after making it to ARC, promising to do Fives’ memory proud. He would have been forcibly turned against their Captain and Commander because Kix had failed to honour Fives’ last request. He would have died when the ship went down, and Kix hopes it was on impact. He hopes Jesse hadn’t been in too much pain.

Kix keeps moving, he owes that much to his brothers. He continues living for them, and when he hears of a wanna-be Empire trying to gain a foothold in the Galaxy, Kix goes to the Resistance. No one recognizes him as a clone, not as a relic of an age long past, instead he’s just Kix, a combat medic who wants to help. He knows how to fight and is a good teacher for anyone Command throws at him, and the Resistance needs whoever they can take.

He flourishes in war - he would have never thought he’d miss having to stitch people back together, but somehow he had. Kix is a clone, he had been made to fight. It gives him a purpose again, to protect the New Republic.

It also gives him the chance to build a new network.

Kix finds a young man in the medical bay one night as he finishes some paperwork for General Organa, and the kid who had been supposed to be heavily drugged stirs. He’s young with dark skin and doe eyes that remind Kix of his youngest brothers after their first battles, wearing a pair of loose sleep pants and a back-full of bacta wraps. He’s trying to sit up in the bed, struggling against the wires and machines around him as he gasps through his panic.

Kix is at his side within seconds, carefully taking the boy by his shoulder, avoiding the thick bandages around his torso, “Hey, no. Stay down kid.” He advises, and large dark eyes turn to him in surprise and groggy confusion. “My name is Kix, I’m a Resistance medic. You’re safe.” He soothes.

“I - the - Starkiller base?” He croaks, and Kix tilts his head, offering the boy a comforting smile that doesn’t feel as fake as it normally does.

“Destroyed, kid.”

The young man lets out a breath of relief, and lets Kix push him back into the bed to lay on his stomach once more, “That’s good.” He murmurs, before alarm sparks in his eyes again. “Rey?”

“Well,” Kix starts, moving to fuss with the kid’s bandages so that he could inspect the injury. “We don’t have any casualty reports on a Rey, so I can say that they’re not in the medbay.” The boy relaxes, “You, on the other hand, have been in bacta for the last week and a half.” He finally manages to wrestle the wrappings off of the kid, and he lets out a shocked hiss at the sight of the massive injury twisting across his spine. “How did you get a lightsaber burn?” He demands - there hadn’t been any notes about lightsaber burns in any files he had read. But then again, who the hell would know what they were looking at with the Jedi reduced to nothing but a legend and a scary story to tell misbehaving children.

The young man blinks lethargically, the cocktail of drugs in his system probably taking effect again with the drop of his adrenaline levels. “Tried to fight Kylo Ren.” He grunts, “Lost.”

“Got some balls on you then. But that was a stupid thing to do” He had seen what lightsabers could do - he had stared at brothers hacked apart too often not to. “You’re lucky to be alive, kid.”

“Not a kid.” The kid mumbles, watching sleepily as Kix starts reapplying bacta to the wound. His cheek is smushed into the pillow, much like how Tup had once slept, his short curls a mess that reminded Kix way too much of Dogma’s before the younger trooper managed to slick it back in the morning.

It makes his heart hurt to look at him, but it’s nice to see his brothers somewhere in this messed up Galaxy.

Kix shakes himself, letting out a sardonic snort, “Well, you haven’t exactly told me your name, kid.”

He pouts sleepily, enough Fives in his expression that it aches, “FN-2187.”

Kix freezes, horror washing over him and a sick feeling in his stomach; he thought there wouldn’t be anymore children with numbers instead of names with the destruction of Kamino, but apparently that was too much to hope for. The kid - because Kix can’t even bring himself to call another person by a number, not again - flinches under his hands, like he was bracing for a blow.

If there was even more of a reason to hate Imperials, Kix was looking at it.

Dark eyes dart away from him nervously, and the kid licks his lips. “Finn.” He says quietly, a little desperate, “My name is Finn. And I’m not a number.”

Kix swallows. He stills the shaking in his hands and keeps working, “It’s nice to meet you, Finn.” He tells him honestly, and watches, a little heartbroken, as shock blooms in Finn’s wide eyes. “I’m CT-6116, but my name is Kix.” Finn’s breath catches, “I’m not a number either.”

“You’re like me.” Finn whispers in awe, voice cracking. “I’m not alone.”

“Not anymore, vod’ika.” Kix promises, throat thick and eyes burning, and he means it.

Finn wouldn’t be alone, not if he had anything to say about it.

[theangrypokemaniac]

Ma and Pa James's Second Biggest Fan (we plough a lonely furrow) continues to find Ma Jess's appeal mystifying, since everything about her is negative:

1. Signing up for Team Rocket suggests someone of a morally dubious character to start with, but the truth lies in the clothing, and she's in black!

Black!

It's code for her personality:

• Jessie wears white:

Pure, beautiful, innocent, sweet-natured, not really bad, dealt a severe hand in life but a fighter.

• Cassidy wears black:

EVIL!!! EVIL, EVIL, EEEEEEVUL!!! FOUL SIRENIC TEMPTRESS!!! EVIL HEARTLESS BITCH STEALING JAMES'S NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN WEEPINBELL!!!

Speaking of which:

2. She was Madame Boss's best agent.

You don't get there being kind.

To reach that standing requires hundreds of successful heists, and we aren't talking nicking gold bars. It's living things.

How many Pokémon do you imagine she stole with merciless efficiency?

How many children did she set upon, pinching every animal they had?

How many innocent lives did she ruin by depriving kids of the pets they loved, never to see them again, eaten away with the not-knowing and the false hope?

The glory of her reign ran on the fuel of blood and tears.

What fate do you envision awaited those Pokémon? It's not exchanging one master for another, it's entering slavery.

Jessie and James aren't the epitome of Team Rocket. They are minnows on the outskirts, despised and mocked by most of their fellow members. The actual group isn't particularly famous for prioritizing Pokémon welfare.

The preferable outcome is being handed out to agents to help catch other victims. Otherwise it's transformation into a war machine, forced to fight on and on to the point of exhaustion and death, no doubt tortured and tested on to boot.

What happens if they don't come up to scratch or are pushed for years until too aged and broken to be of any use? Are Team Rocket ready to pension them off to animal sanctuary?

As if. It's euthanasia or on to the streets to waste away, if not fed to the strongest first.

Ma Jess knew this and worse occurred thanks to her, yet paid it no mind, and felt not a single twinge of guilt in that time of service, then met her end trying to draw another Pokémon into imprisonment.

Some might say it was a case of what goes around, comes around. As her behaviour led to God knows how many Pokémon dying alone, leaving their loved ones to wonder and grieve, so in turn did she die alone in the snow, and Jessie had to carry on without her.

I'm not against Ma Jess, I neither feel like or dislike, but I don't understand how so many fans can happily overlook her murky past of inflicting pain, instead elevating her to a semi-divine tragic heroine, yet apparently Ma and Pa's heinous offences of not stealing and treating Pokémon well are beyond forgiveness.

3. It's the Red Ribbon Army! Save yourselves!

Jessie joined Team Rocket to follow in Ma's footsteps. James went with her. Both moved (upwardly in scale, downwardly in morals) from Sunny Town's gang of petty thief kids to a complex Mafia organisation stretching its wriggling tentacles around the world to crush the air from its lungs.

Why? Ma Jess's baleful influence led the two down that path.

Of course Jessie wants to copy Ma, how and where else can she feel close to her?

There's not even a grave to visit!

Rising in the ranks and Giovanni's favour is both to strike it rich and take her place, becoming Ma in essence. That would make her proud, which is all Jessie ever wanted.

What alternative is there? Stay with Chopper and Tyra forever, ekeing an existence pickpocketing and shoplifting, until mortality comes calling sooner than is welcome, or get loaded quickly and retire early?

James theoretically could've gone home at this point, but when it came to which angry redhead he preferred to beat him up, he chose Jessie.

He was henceforth obliged to go whenever she led, even if it meant following the ghost of her mother into the jaws of evil.

They have an excuse, but what was Ma's for getting involved?

However much they boast and revel in their wickedness, the motto proves the couple still believe themselves on a noble quest, despite everything to the contrary, and why?

Jessie isn't about to accept that Ma Jess, whom she's probably idolized as one of few people to love her and a role model of how a woman should be, was nasty or unpleasant. If she was in Team Rocket, it must be good, whatever the outer appearance.

Except Jessie and James are bad at being bad. They are not master criminals. All their plans fail, rendering them poor and starving in consequence. The inner circle of Team Rocket will always be barred to them because they lack the inner darkness it requires.

The joke is they flourish in any other occupation, whether that be Salon Rocquet, reporters, or flogging merchandise and food at the League. If employed elsewhere they'd be better off, but they have to stay because Jessie can't let go, or bear the thought she might be a disappointment to her mother's name. A different career looks unworthy by comparison.

What, so Ma and Pa have got no son because of Ma Jess? They just wanted him to be a gentleman!

If she hadn't set such a terrible example to her daughter she might have an increased quality of life, but then had she done so Ma wouldn't be dead in the first place.

4. Can't pick 'em can she?

What was it that first attracted Ma to Windy Miller? Does she go for the rustic charm, or the promise of a lifetime's supply of bread to feed the abundance of babies planned?

Don't do it, Ma! He's an alky!

Some birds are like that you see. It's the maternal instinct gone haywire. They find a local reprobate and somehow decide he's really a damaged soul crying out for love, the scapegoat of a cruel society.

He's not evil, he's just misunderstood!

This is why you get nutters wanting to marry the Yorkshire Ripper: they put his 'mischief' down to bad women mistreating his gentle heart, but they of course are devoted to his happiness. They can change him.

You don't know him like I do!

In their fantasy, under the influence of a 'proper' woman he'll transform in to a flower-picking hippie, but not too much, they still like him to be dangerously 'manly' (keeps 'em on their toes), then they can feel smugly superior and more truly female than the 'lesser' breed who failed to tame his sexy pashuns.

And if there's one thing Windy has in abundance, it's raw animal magnetism.

Stop it, Ma! You can't help those who don't want helping!

She put up with the boozing, the flour dust and his somewhat limited communication skills, but what really let him down was the company he kept.

Ever after she would insist Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub led him astray. That's firemen for yer.

Cuthbert? That name's died out.

Sure enough, some point after Ma Jess was stuffed up the spout, old Windy legged it back to Camberwick Green, like the rascal he is, and not a sweet penny piece did she receive in maintenance, the bastard.

At least Ma James got pregnant by a man who stood by her.

She wasn't married to Windy Miller!

Oh, you mean they were living over the brush? I see.

It's all in your head!

Do it my way, and we have Pa Jess. Do it yours, and we're back to a cavernous emptiness. Unless you can supply a picture of the 'real' (pffft) Pa Jess, this is the best available.

Anyway, 'Jessie Miller' just sounds right.

Coincidence? I think not.

5. She went to look for Mew dressed like this.

I could forgive it had she gone in her normal uniform, that's just whimsy, but to have made some effort emphasises that it's not enough!

Some part of her understood a mountain might be a bit parky out, but this was deemed sufficient coverage!

What happened?

She bloody died didn't she?!

6. Ma Boss points the way to doom.

Ma Jess was at least loyal to the mistress she served, but it was a wasted dedication. She squandered her life obeying a heartless virago who could cast aside apparently valued staff without a qualm, whatever thanks she owed them.

The millions Ma Jess accumulated for Madame are probably uncountable, yet she was so worthless that, when dispatched to the mountain, on her own, expected to catch a Legendary Pokémon, by herself, which many doubted even existed, and wasn't likely to come quietly, or put up with orders, but then didn't come back, Madame Boss allowed her only child to sink into poverty and the infamous 'care' of the State.

Everyone knows what goes on there. Entering a home has replaced the workhouse as the place of dread.

Jessie might have been killed or attacked and it didn't remotely concern Madame Boss, unwilling to spare a meagre fraction of her massive fortune to give the girl she made an orphan any comfort or security.

What did she matter? Her mother failed. Why reward that?

In her turn, Jessie became just as obsequious to an undeserving master, who went further than his mama and actively tried to murder her, and still she suffers to please him.

Team Rocket devoured her mother, and now it's swallowed her.

Oh, and Madame Boss got her way upon discovering Mew's fossil, so Ma Jess died for nothing.

7. This.

I'm not surprised Mew wouldn't go with Ma. She probably sensed the vivisection awaiting, and didn't give a toss about the avalanche in revenge.

Mew hasn't got where she is today falling for any old shallow promises from a stranger, thank you.

Suppose the mission had worked, with Mew caught and gift wrapped for Madame's delectation: what then?

Perhaps Mew's power, proving so impressive, would've pushed any cloning scheme aside, leaving Mewtwo unborn and Mew as the mightiest weapon. Or in greed Madame Boss demands more, and in arrogance the scientists promise the earth, the seas and the heavens.

Mew I could see subjected to some non-lethal form of dissection, just to understand how she ticked, that is if they could build the cage to hold her.

As they couldn't, and catching Mew was never a possibility, then Ma Jess's sacrificed herself on a fool's errand, which was obviously one from the outset. If Mew was easy to handle she'd have been captured long before now.

Either Ma dies, Mew's safe, but Madame Boss starts the cloning scheme anyway, or Ma's victorious, Mew is a tool of Team Rocket and the scientists have more sample to experiment upon. Mewtwo is still made, alongside short-lived creations and dozens of unseen freakish abominations preceding.

Now Mewtwo isn't what you call at peace with himself, nor has he received a particularly wholesome experience. One could think Ma indirectly caused that. Her branch of the project may have fizzled to cinders but she still played her role.

What would her legacy have been but to help bring forth the being that wiped out mankind? Where's the future for Jessie when there isn't one?

It's not her fault, but she died in the name of cloning a biological disaster, the creation of synthetic life leading to the destruction of it all.

8. Let's have a gander at Ma in the anime:

• Can afford rent.

• Can afford a tray.

• Can afford crockery.

• Can afford condiments to add flavour to food.

• Can't afford any actual food.

Something's wrong there.

I intended to include affording clothes too, but now I'm not so sure.

I never took Ma to be a brown-all-over kind of woman. At least she gave the fancy stuff to Jessie.

For years I've assumed she wore a brightly coloured jacket, but now I suspect it's a red one heavily patched up, because buying a replacement isn't an option.

Really old clothes are being mended with whatever can be salvaged from even more worn-out clobber.

Best agent Madame Boss has and she's practically living in her own filth.

Team Rocket takes care of its own, eh?

Oh no, let's not get a proper job, one that allows me to provide for my daughter and doesn't ask for my life. Let's stay in this one!

9. Look at Jessie's face!

By her own admission, being tricked into eating snow is the best thing that ever happened to her during an 'otherwise wretched childhood', to the extent she doesn't know it was wrong!

I don't hear Ma and Pa doing that. The only ice James got was an ice-cream sandwich.

What kind of infancy did Ma Jess give the girl for her to be nostalgic about almost dying of malnutrition?

If we say that's a foster mother as in the sub, it means Jessie's fondest memory is after Ma died, which is too brutal for me.

Yeah, thank goodness she's snuffed it.

You think Ma might have taught her not to eat snow! She left her so ill-prepared!

Consequently the sub version makes Ma Jess an awful creature, although I don't see why that Jessie would so desire to mimic a mom she apparently doesn't care about.

10. She's not even bloody here!

I have no picture to signify absence, therefore I must show whom she left behind.

Ma Jess is Pokémon's answer to Bobba Fett: background figure, barely involved, no information, dies early, yet became a fan favourite nevertheless.

If nothing really exists, what is there to like? Why are you contented weaving smoke?

When Rocketshippers put forward the manga as proof, the Anti-Ships used to insist that it 'didn't count' for being set in a 'separate universe'.

If that still goes, and only the contents of the anime apply to the anime, well then it's bye-bye to Ma Jess and Madame Boss, because they aren't real either.

I sometimes think that's true. However traumatic, would Jessie not have acknowledged her mother by now otherwise?

We grasp the characters all had two parents in a nebulous fashion, although not being real people means they don't 'technically' need them, but Ma Jess is the only one who vanished to be granted a face. Why is she then ignored?

She's briefly glimpsed in a passing scene of a single episode of the first series and is never seen or referenced again. The sub doesn't even have that. Where was the use in creating her if only to leave that thread of the tale billowing in the breeze?

We may decide her actions affect Jessie's but we're only imprinting assumptions. She might as well have remained unwritten for all that's made of her.

What we can glean doesn't bode well, irrespective of things left unmentioned.

Her one redeeming deed was dying, thus at least she didn't choose to abandon Jessie. We may presume she'd have stayed with her girl given the chance.

By my reckoning that puts her as Fifth-Best Mother Of Pokémon, behind Ma Brock, Ma James, Dame Ketchum and Ma Boss, in that order.

Then they're those who claim she never died, so she just pissed off like everyone else, rendering her devoid of a single positive quality.

This is the woman you sigh and agonise over for decades.

Ma and Pa are right there, man! Show 'em some love!

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 07: DISHONOUR AMONG THIEVES

QUEST SUMMARY:

Due to his status as the World Guardian, Jahaan wound up as part of Zamorak’s heist team. Their task? Steal the Stone of Jas from Sliske and return its power to Zamorak. Jahaan gets to learn more about a god propaganda had always skewed, but will he be on board with Zamorak’s plan in the end…

CHAPTER 5: WRATH AND RUIN

Moia’s eyes narrowed as she locked onto Sliske’s glittering yellow irises. “Sliske…”

With a dramatic flourish, Sliske flamboyantly gestured around him. “Welcome! How nice to finally have some visitors. Hope you like what I've done with the place. The statues are truly inspired artwork, I think. I recommend having a-”

“Enough of this prattle!” Zemouregal cut in, summoning smoke to his fingertips with malicious intent. “I say we eliminate this vermin before he has the chance to scurry away!”

Hopping backwards, Sliske held his palms outwards and said,  “Ah-ah-ah! How rude of me, I almost forgot to introduce you...”

Shivering slightly, Khazard took a tentative step backwards. “Bilrach... do you sense that?”

“Yes, Khazard, I sense it too,” Bilrach’s fists were clenched, his voice low and eyes darting around him. “Be on your guard.”

Sliske’s smile grew wicked now. “I think it's time for you to meet the other guests.”

From a cloud of smoke, Sliske revealed his latest creations: shadow replicas, clones of the present Zamorakians that nested comfortably in the uncanny valley. They wore the same armour as their counterparts, had the same weapons, but they still seemed… off. Perhaps the sinister air surrounding them was just something that had brushed off from their creator.

“Nomad, meet Nomad!,” Sliske proudly introduced, watching the expressions of confusion and horror from the Zamorakians with twisted glee. “Daquarius, meet Daquarius! Jerrod- well, you get the picture.”

“So this is the result of your twisted experiments in the Shadow Realm,” Bilrach regarded the shadow apparition of himself without amusement.

“What have you done, Sliske?” Khazard demanded, his hand clenched around his sword hilt. The shadow figure of him mimicked the action. “Playing god like this is dangerous - even for you!”

Sliske sneered, “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were scared, Khazard.”

“No!” Khazard barked, too sharply, and it betrayed him. “Surely they are nothing but apparitions, constructs of shadow…”

���Indeed,” Nomad concurred, his resolve more certain. “A nice trick, but nothing more, conjurer.”

“Oh, but they are so much more! You will find them to be quite formidable opponents.”

Jahaan scanned the ranks once, then twice, and noticed an absence. His tone was slightly wary as he inquired, “So where's my one?”

The smirk Sliske gave him made Jahaan wish he had never asked. “Such impatience! Just you wait, I still have an ace up my sleeve for you...”

“We have heard enough of your empty words,” Moia summoned a ball of flames to her palms. “Disciples of chaos, ready yourselves!”

With that, the Zamorakians drew their weapons and readied their spells; their opposites did the same.

Unsurprisingly, Zemouregal was the one to make the first move, blasting Nomad’s double with a bolt of shadow magic. “Ha! Been waiting to do that for a long time.”

Taking it personally, Nomad squared off with Zemouregal’s clone, while the others paired off with their counterparts in a flurry of combat.

Jahaan was about to get stuck into the action too when he felt a force tug him backwards. From the instant chill, he realised he’d been dragged into the Shadow Realm again, the dark tinge his vision he’d acquired confirming this.

He wasn’t alone. This he knew. He could sense a presence. Nay, multiple presences. Those not quite living, not quite dead. These weren’t Sliske, but he was here too, his looming spirit omniscient.

Right in the centre of the room, a platform, holding the Stone of Jas atop it.

Sliske's voice echoed around the cavernous vault. “Welcome to the carnival, Jahaan! It’s been too long, my dear. Now, it’s time for the main act to begin...”

Suddenly, a figure materialised and charged at him, holding two blades akin to his own. Instinctively, Jahaan swung for the apparition, only for it to disappear in a cloud of smoke. Confused, Jahaan held the grip of his swords steady, shuffling backwards. 

It was a whisper of a sound, a ghost of a noise, but there was someone behind him. Slashing around in the area his ears had tweaked, his blades greeted nothing.

Just as he was about to grumble out his frustrations, another figure appeared at his six o’clock. Jahaan rolled out of the way of the crushing sword blow, whipping around with his two blades, expecting not to meet the attacker. But this time, he did. His swords clashed with two blades, similar to his own, but radiating smoke. The opponent holding them was himself. Or, rather, a slightly more contorted version of himself. Pupilless eyes, slightly crooked limbs, like a puppet being held on a loose string. The likeness was revolting, for Jahaan felt like he was looking into the zombified version of himself, entranced and helpless to Sliske’s command.

It also had a hauntingly familiar smile carved into its overly pale face.

“Do you like him?” Sliske’s voice was laced with a malicious chuckle. “It’s such a shame you scarred that pretty face of yours, you know. Such a waste.”

Despite being faced with… himself… Jahaan found that he was on the defensive more often than not, and that every strike he made was countered perfectly. Knowing he was fighting an uphill battle, Jahaan said to himself, This is just a game to Sliske, like everything is. I’ve gotta focus on getting the Stone back into the material realm...

As he sparred, Jahaan edged backwards, closer and closer to the Stone. A blade swung for his neck, but Jahaan ducked in time, managing to use one of his blades to swipe at his opponents shins. Despite being a shadow construct, the counterpart took the hit like he was flesh and blood, and Jahaan capitalised with a slash across the chest with his other blade, only cringing ever so slightly at the sight of causing ‘himself’ such agony.

Not wasting a second, Jahaan dashed up to the Stone’s plinth, finally taking in the awe-inspiring power radiating from the immense artefact up close. It caused his skin to crawl as he felt the energy creep underneath his flesh and into his veins.

Despite guessing that it would be foolish to reach out and touch the godly weapon, Jahaan decided to reach out and touch the godly weapon.

Upon touching the Stone, Jahaan’s mind was cast back through time to witness a memory that was imprinted on the Stone of Jas many years ago, far back towards the end of the Third Age, and to a land once known as Forinthry…

The battlefield was solemn, a haunting wind crying out through the desolate grey sky. Mere minutes beforehand, the place was ablaze with the clashing of swords, the screams of battle, and the rattle of magic. Now, it was eerily quiet, save for the low groaning of the wounded and the unstable pulsing of energy emitting from the Stone of Jas.

Panting, Zamorak was huddled over on the ground, a hand defiantly (albeit desperately) sealed onto the Stone’s surface.

When he blinked through the grit in his eyes, he saw three figures looming over him, though keeping a comfortable distance.

Saradomin, Armadyl and Bandos, side by side.

“You are defeated, Zamorak,” Saradomin announced, barely keeping the smugness from his tone. “Give up the Stone.”

“Never,” Zamorak spat, unsurprised when blood spilt from his lips. “You betrayed me, you bastard! You threw away our alliance the moment your knife could find my back!”

With his words, the Stone’s surface quivered and cracked, energy pounding through it with more vehermence than ever before.

Seeing this, Armadyl pleaded with heavy eyes, “Please, Zamorak. Look at the Stone. Your desperation is causing it to become unstable!”

“Stop squawking, bird,” Bandos grunted, tightening his grip on his large warhammer. “Bandos has destroyed red man’s armies. Now, Bandos finish red man too!”

“There’s a peaceful way out of this for all of us, you barbarian,” Armadyl maintained, softening his tone when he returned his focus to Zamorak. “Please, Zamorak. It does not have to end like this...”

Saradomin’s eyes were on fire, burning holes through Zamorak’s skull. “You cannot reason with this mad dog, Armadyl. He and his forces are devoted to evil above all else.”

“Lies!” Zamorak rebuked, forcefully. “You do not understand… you have never even wanted to fucking TRY and understand! I have risen to power through my own strength and will, and that is how ALL can thrive! You… you little bitch, you’re wretched and weak, just like your pathetic excuse for an ideology. Order leads to stagnation, but chaos leads to innovation, empowerment, FREEDOM!”

Now, the Stone’s pulsing began to cause rifts in the world, quaking the earth surrounding them all, but Zamorak didn’t even seem to notice. Armadyl’s resolve, on the other hand, was about as unsteady as the ground beneath him. He looked over his shoulder to the aviansie army behind him, the fearsome warriors that had followed him from their home world on Abbinah in hopes of finding peace on Gielinor. He had lost a fair few good soldiers in the battle preceding this standoff, and he would weep for them all. However, many were still alive, and thus one thing was repeating inside his mind, clawing fiercely to escape.

“Zamorak, I beg of you - the Stone!” he implored with increased urgency. “You know not what you are doing. You could annihilate Forinthry and all innocent life within!”

“Do you see now?” Saradomin swept a grand gesture behind him. “This is what you truly stand for - the destruction of life. You are nothing but a villain.”

Coughing, Zamorak ignored the blue deities remarks and turned to the others. “Armadyl... Bandos... hear me. Everything I've done was for Gielinor. I seek only to raise up the people of this world.”

But Bandos just laughed. “Ha! The mighty Zamorak, begging on his knees. Pathetic.”

There was a glint in Armadyl’s eyes, however, that indicated he might be reasoned with. “Saradomin, does he speak the truth?”

Quickly, Saradomin dispelled this idea, eager to keep his allies on his side. “Lies, all of it. He is trying to manipulate you. We each allied to bring this wretched criminal to justice. The Stone is rightfully mine!”

This didn’t sit well with Bandos. “Yours? Looks like fair game to Bandos, old man.”

Latching onto this, Zamorak growled, “Saradomin, you only want to rule and control this world with your power, the same as Zaros before you. Stagnation and weakness is all that comes of it.”

“And you believe chaos to be the answer?” Saradomin rebuked. “Would you have this planet ravaged by a never-ending war?!”

“Conflict would be inevitable, yes, but the people of the world would be free. Free to fall and grow, to fail and rebuild-”

“MADNESS!” Saradomin cut in, and by the looks on Armadyl’s on Bandos’ faces, Zamorak knew he had lost them all. Nevertheless, he persisted, “Surely you can see the value of my words, Bandos?”

“They are just words,” Bandos snarled. “Powerless and empty. In another time we might have seen eye-to-eye. You might have been allowed to fight for Bandos.”

Lastly, desperately, he turned to Armadyl. “Armadyl? Come on…”

His eyes wavered, and he looked away from the downed deity. In a regretful tone, Armadyl said, “I am sorry, Zamorak. I cannot allow chaos to engulf this world.”

Sneering with victory, Saradomin declared, “The time has come for you to meet your end, usurper.”

“NO! You are all blind!” Zamorak’s rage began to get the better of him, and the Stone crackled and pulsed in time with his temper, shaking the ground beneath as it started to glow brighter. “None of you are deserving of this power. None of you! If I must meet my end, THEN EACH OF YOU WILL MEET YOURS!”

Jahaan could no longer hear anything, and his vision began to get blurry. Armadyl reached out a hand, Bandos charged forwards, Saradomin raised his Staff, and Zamorak rose to his feet with the power of the elder gods infused into his heart. The world burst into light, and then receded just as quickly into darkness.

When Jahaan opened his eyes, he realised that he and the Stone were back in the material realm. He was still attached to the Stone, and it required some fighting to break free from it. Once he did, he noticed how his entire body was tingling, similarly to how he felt with Zaros inside of him. This time though, the power was much stronger, dizzyingly so. He felt unstable, but at the same time, he felt immortal.

Clenching his fist, he noted how energy was literally sparking from his knuckles. It was intoxicating, and it made him want to fight. The nearest conduit for his adrenaline was the shadow copy of Enakhra; Jahaan didn't even draw his swords as he knew he had the power flowing inside him to channel a magic spell. What spell, though, he wasn’t sure - he had no runes, and Zaros only acted as a substitute for the ancient magicks.

Soon enough, he realised this little conundrum wasn’t going to be an issue as he shot a bolt of pure elder energy out of his palms, so powerful that the Enakhra shadow dissipated upon contact.

Startled, Enakhra spun around to see who had stolen her kill. Grey eyes sparkled with shock horror when they met Jahaan’s green ones, seeing the fire dancing inside them and the magic wrapping around his palm.

However, Jahaan realised that the attack had used up a lot of the power he’d taken from the Stone. Knowing the magic was fleeting, he thought to pick his next target more wisely. Zemouregal's shadow was long since dead, as was Nomad’s and Khazard’s. The aforementioned had spread themselves around to take out the remaining shadow’s of their comrades. Only Lord Daquarius fought alone, sparring with a mirror image of himself. Jahaan sprinted over, gathering the magic to his fingertips, but a lighter blast this time - overkill was not necessary. The amount definitely proved to be effective as Lord Daquarius’ shadow went down without a second thought.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bulky figure running towards the Stone. Clearly he wasn’t the only one to see it as a female voice called out, “Nomad, stop!”

Instinctively, Jahaan whipped around and fired a bolt of energy towards the charging Nomad. It caught his back and shoved him forwards, onto his knees.

“You dare stop me from realising my destiny?!” he bellowed, picking himself up and changing the grip on his spear so it was as if he was holding a javelin. “Only I am worthy of the Stone's power! Foolish human. I should have finished you long ago!”

Swiftly dodging to the side, Jahaan missed the spear’s deadly tip by a literal hair’s length - he felt it cut through his dreadlocks - and retaliated by slipping his dagger from the sheath at his back and launching it towards Nomad, slicing into the soul mage’s fingers.

Roaring in pain, Nomad clutched his left hand, watching helplessly as blood poured from where his index finger used to be. It’d been sliced clean off from just above the top joint, and his middle finger had also lost the tip. Seeing he was outnumbered and losing blood fast, Nomad caved and teleported away, a harsh curse thrown in Jahaan’s direction for good measure.

Once he left, another figure emerged, fading in under the glow of fire and shadow.

Zamorak had arrived.

He wordlessly nodded to his followers, then to Jahaan, before turning his attention to the Stone. Eyes full of hunger, he strode up, examining the glowing and crackling specimen for only a fleeting moment before he placed a grey claw upon its surface. Reeling back, Zamorak began to shake, his body convulsing as energy surged through his veins.

It was at that moment Sliske revealed himself once more. All the Zamorakians were so focused on the spectacle of Zamorak absorbing the Stone’s power that they didn’t notice the snake’s arrival, but Jahaan did. He didn’t have time to act, or even call out, before Sliske began to move, disappearing back into the shadows. His movements were quick, his appearances fleeting; he appeared in front Khazard first, thrust a palm into the Mahjarrat’s stomach and chest, and then vanished once more before reappearing in front of a new target. Whoever he touched was left paralysed, limbs frozen and stiff as a flurry of shadows engulfed them. Jahaan, however, had been spared, and could only watch in amazement and horror as Sliske effortlessly worked his way through the Zamorakians.

By the time Zamorak noticed, all his followers were incapacitated. Growling, Zamorak removed his hand from the Stone, staring daggers through Sliske when he manifested opposite him. The fury in the deity’s eyes could burn castles to the ground, yet Sliske seemed unphased, or at least that’s the facade he wore.

“So, the serpent finally rears its ugly head,” Zamorak spat, his fists clenched into tight balls as the elder energy flowed between his fingers.

“Ah, good ol' Zammy,” Sliske cheered in response. His smile dripped from his lips like acid. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Release my followers or you will leave here in a FUCKING BUCKET.”

Tutting, Sliske’s smile grew into a wicked grin. “Careful, I could disappear into the shadows with the Stone faster than you could say 'Saradomin'.”

Zamorak stance was proud, solid, immovable. “You better watch that tone of yours," he threatened with a hiss. "I'll rip your tongue out with my bare hands for all the shit it's caused."

Sliske’s stance, on the other hand, was hunched, casual, his hands wringing together incessantly. “Oh, come now, we have so much in common! There was a time when we stood side by side, many lifetimes ago.”

“We’re nothing alike, Blasckum.”

At this, Sliske roared with laughter. “Such colourful language! Do be careful - there are humans present, after all. And to use such harsh words against one of your brothers!”

“We’re not brothers anymore,” Zamorak maintained, his voice cold and chilling.

“Oh but we were!” Sliske maintained, his voice cheery but his eyes emotionless. “Back in the good old days of the Zarosian Empire. Did we not work together then, Legatus? Until you stabbed Zaros in the back, that is.”

Sliske leaned in a little closer, his voice lower and more calculating as he revealed, “Tell me, Zammy - do you really think that the Praefectus Praetorio was unaware of your plot against the Empty Lord?”

Zamorak paused, hesitant, carefully trying to read Sliske. “...bullshit.”

This elicited a grin from Sliske. “Why would I lie about this? The old society was oh so boring. Everyone being watched, afraid to put a foot out of line. Your development of this 'chaos' ideology was a breath of fresh air. Honourable intentions certainly, but it was the results that had me intrigued.”

“Chaos is not a game where you can pull the strings,” Zamorak asserted. “Only an arrogant Zarosian would believe they could play puppet master.”

“Yes, I suppose that is where we differ,” Sliske sighed. “But ask yourself, do the motivations really matter when the goal is the same?”

“You're no ally of mine, you damn snake. Fuck off back to the shadows where you came from. The Stone belongs to me now.”

Erupting with cackling laughter, Sliske countered, “Ally? Oh Zammy dear, I fear I have misled you. You know better than to think me so… unambitious. You may have reached the Stone, yes. It was truly amusing to watch your minions play my games. But to believe it is in your possession? Well…”

“I’ve already drawn power from it, regardless of your empty words,” Zamorak replied. “Even now my energy increases. It’s about time I finally shut you up for good.”

“Ah yes, you can feel the energy coursing through your veins. You are addicted, just like Saradomin is, just like Lucien was,” Sliske raised his eyebrows, his tone lighter as he finished, “And now I am too.”

Crinkling his brow, Jahaan had been silent thus far, watching the events unfold with baited breath, but finally he piped up, “What do you mean ‘addicted’?”

Sliske turned slightly towards Jahaan, keeping one beady yellow iris on Zamorak at all times. “Can't you see? Everyone who has ever touched the Stone has sacrificed everything in order to keep it in their grasp. The energy withheld in the Stone is not from this world, and the feeling of absorbing it is incomparable. I am not so clouded by pride that I would deceive myself.”

“You speak only of your own addiction,” Zamorak declared, “The Stone is nothing but a tool, a necessity if I am to free this world from the other gods.”

“Fool yourself all you like, Zamorak,” Sliske’s wicked, all-knowing smirk was back. “I know the truth.”

Considering this, Jahaan evaluated the feeling he had when he touched the Stone, and easily could see how one would become addicted to such an immense feeling of power. Then again, he already felt the power depleting oh-so quickly, and with it, his lust for the Stone did not remain. Hesitantly, he asked, “What about me? I touched the Stone after all.”

“Hmm… It would seem being the World Guardian is a double-edged sword,” Sliske replied. “You may not be harmed by the gods, but you are also unable to absorb divine energy. Good old Guthix gave you a blessing - and a curse. You do seem to be quite handy at channeling the Stone's power temporarily, though. Addiction may not be your downfall, no, but power so often corrupts the heart and mind.”

“Enough of this chatter,” Zamorak hissed, a small storm brewing around his palms. “You’re done here, Sliske. And I mean for good.”

Finally, Sliske’s calm demeanour dropped, and he looked slightly worried now. Jahaan could have sworn he saw the Mahjarrat gulp. From the corner of his eyes, Sliske locked his glare onto Jahaan, his tone absent of all joviality as he stated, “Jahaan, I have afforded you the opportunity to influence history. Choose wisely.”

The gravity of Sliske’s words sunk in instantly. He saw Zamorak begin to channel a spell, and Sliske just standing there, waiting, somewhat nervously. Why isn’t he moving?! Why isn’t he trying to defend himself?!

It was like the world was moving in slow motion, like everything was underwater.

Jahaan thought the choice was obvious. He had some of the Stone’s energy inside him still, and if he helped channel a spell at Sliske alongside Zamorak, then perhaps it would mean an end to all his games, his charades, his war and insanity. The shadow that had loomed over Jahaan’s life for so long would be gone, and he’d be free from the wretched puppeteer.

But as quickly as those thoughts crossed his mind, so did their counterparts. Should Zamorak really have the Stone? And it wouldn’t just be him having that power, it’d be all his followers. Zemouregal, Khazard and Enakhra… all of them would have even more power and influence over this world. One of them would be bound to follow in Lucien’s power-hungry footsteps. And I’d also be making enemies of Azzanadra, Wahisietel and Zaros… ah, FUCK.

Not allowing himself to think twice, Jahaan fought back his hesitation and channelled all the remaining power within him.

Just as Zamorak was about to strike, Jahaan cut in, hurling elder energy into the deity’s chest. It winded him, but didn’t have a lasting effect. Confused, Zamorak’s betrayed and fiery glare settled upon Jahaan, and he readied a retaliatory strike. Edging backwards, Jahaan suddenly regretted all of his life choices. Luckily, before Zamorak could strike, he was yanked into the Shadow Realm and teleported away.

When Jahaan opened his eyes, he recognised the blurry outline of the Empyrean Citadel wavering around him, cloaked in shadow and mist. The Stone, too, was beside him. As he caught his breath and tried to still his rapid heartbeat, Sliske’s laughter echoed around him. 

“Good show, Janny! You really did leave it until the most dramatic moment to upstage poor old Zammy. Needed a little help from yours truly, of course, but impressive nonetheless.”

Jahaan looked up and into the smirking, smug face of Sliske, and again regretted his life choices. “I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t want the Zamorakians having the Stone. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

“Ignoring that hurtful remark,” Sliske grinned. “I must know - what did Zammy offer you to become his lackey, hm?”

Too tired to think of a suitable rebuttal, Jahaan just sighed, taking a seat on one of the statue plinths. His eyes wandered about the Citadel. “He didn’t offer me anything. I liked his ideology; it makes a lot of sense, it’s practical... I didn’t mind going along for the ride, for a while. But I guess I can strike Zamorak off my Wintumber Festival card list…”

“Ah yes, Zamorak will certainly regret bringing you along,” Sliske smiled wryly. “Now, I have much to do, and as much as I enjoy your company, I think it’s time we parted ways. Do enjoy the scenery up here, though. I often admire the sunrise from such a view.”

Sliske placed a gloved palm atop Jahaan’s shoulder as he said, “Until the next time, darling…”

Within a blink, Jahaan was back in the material realm. It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the blinding sunlight that was pouring into the Empyrean Citadel.

Peering over the edge into the clouds below, Jahaan rolled his eyes. Fantastic. Couldn’t have transported me anywhere more convenient, Sliske?

Luckily, he remembered the invitation box he’d kept after Sliske’s ascendency ceremony and hurriedly removed it from his backpack. With a deep exhale, he readied himself, opened the box, and was whisked away to the forest north of Ardougne.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[overcaffeinated-creative]

What would be the ultimate happy endings for your OCs?

Gonna start with this can get really long depending on who I use and which verse. So, in my desperate attempts to keep everything short (it’s probably going to fail) I’m sticking to my Main Verse and about ten of my characters. Rest assured all of them want better lives for the Clones and deeply dislike the Empire. However, how their individual character arcs would have played out changes the prominence of certain things in her mind.  

First off, Lumi wants the Jedi Order to still be a thing and for Order 66 to have never happened. Her and Mace would’ve parted on much better terms than the strife of their last few months followed by his death. She so desperately wants closure with him after everything that happened. In the end she’s still the little youngling he helped learn to control such an overwhelming gift. As much strife as the Clone Wars brought, she would not begrudge the Clones their chances to live and thrive. Because they came into the Galaxy as unique lives and deserve ever chance to live and experience life to its fullest. However, when the War was over (with a much better ending) she would still elect to leave. Her calling is somewhere else, with something better. She’d still end up with Fenn because there’s some things the Galaxy wants to happen. Same as she would still train Hera because that’s her little sister now. She’d probably live out her days in the Mandalore Sector with her friends and family, helping teach Force Sensitives (Solus absolutely refused to let the Jedi Order touch) and flying and maintain starfighters.

Solus wants a united Mandalore with a more peaceful transfer of power back to the people who are unashamed of their heritage. No part of her wants to be Manda’lor but she does want to serve next to them (and she knows exactly why she can’t be), as an adviser and sometimes spy. She wants to live on Krownest in her ancestral home, wear her armor, and help her people flourish and thrive again. She’d end up adopting any Clone (or anyone really) who wished become Mandalorian and needed a home. Krownest is difficult planet but her people are tougher. Solus also desperately wants to get married and raise warriors with her spouses. Once she really got to know Ahsoka she knew they were always meant to be. Them and their third form a merry little Triad where everyone feels safe and loved. Her leaving of the Order would’ve been mutually agreed upon thing, and while she does believe Mandalorians have no place among the current Jedi, she does keep contact with her Master Kit. It is also a no-brainer that she wants Lumi and Jazari by her side because they’re a set.

Following her best friends’ lead I believe Jazari would end leaving the Order as well. There’s a lot of reform that needs to happen there and she is not volunteering for the monumental task alone. There would be a lot of free travel between Mandalore (I see her thriving in Keldabe among the ancient and modern, bustling, shifting, thriving city) and her home city of Jedha. She finally opens her happy little sex shop, making her own wares for sell and offering information sessions and donating to charities. She works to limit the various slave rings plaguing the planets bet it funneling money into groups that help or taking more direct action, aided by her teammates, in directly stopping problems. 

Two parts domestic fantasy and one part power fantasy Kamelia wants it all. She makes it to the rank of Master within the Order, at an impressive age, and then retires to return to either rural Corellia or a nice mid-rim planet. She opens a clinic but still has time to be wonderful homemaker. Definitely gets married to a man (imagine women’s magazine cover Hugh Jackman meets like a beloved firefighter/EMT who climbs trees to rescue Tooka and thinks she’s the absolutely hottest, most wholesome thing to ever walk) and has two children, spaced really far apart so she doesn’t have to worry about playing favorites, and gets to be the unholy product of Florence Nightingale and Martha Stewart. There’s not task too big or small for her and everyone has wonderful things to say about her. Finally, she gets to claim some kind of victory of Lumi, Solus, and Jazari who were nothing but wash outs in the end. They failed at being Jedi but she got to rise, then surpass, every dream she had.

Erkan stays within the Jedi Order and lives. That’s a very important thing. He also does the shocking thing of helping to reform the Order to the best of his abilities. Throughout the lead up to the war and the after effects he was able to see both the best and worst of the Temple. Despite, lacking the political savvy starting out (which he wants to pick up) he works to return them to their roots of helping people without the Senate holding their strings. He wants to open more Temples across the Galaxy and move them further out again. No longer would the Jedi spend the bulk of their time in the Temples when not on missions but they would be out and about and fully learning about the Galaxy. He wants their range to expand further than Republic allied worlds because the Force is for everyone. He doesn’t like the exclusivity that they have now, this kind of uppity feeling that the Force is only for those lucky enough to be born free. He also wants to see the rules for attachment reevaluated because relationships are the corner stone of civilizations. There’s not reason to forbid them in a sense because some people can’t separate love and compassion from possession. Those people would have that problem anyway and they might even be able to work through it if they felt comfortable in coming forward.  He becomes the regular Qui-Gon Jinn sauntering around the Galaxy and helping he considered he could’ve became moments before dying.

Jai and Harti share a joint dream because their dream is to be together. Their family is reunited, like the people, and they finally get to settle down. For decades they have fought and now it is time to grow old together in a happily married bliss. They’ve got their beloved Solus back, along with the little gaggle of rebels Harti picked up and Solus’ constant companions. Jai not only lived but so did Jango. He’s protecting Jango for Jaster and watching Boba grow next to Solus. Harti complains they’re all trying to eat him out of house and home when his living room plays host to a verifiable horde of hunters. But, he absolutely loves it. Everything feels like a community and a family again. People are happy, Ursa doesn’t look so tense and alone, and frankly watching Solus play with Tristan and Sabine gives him hopes for great-grandchildren. Jai adopts a literal horde of Clones too. They’re his boys because he trained them and Krownest gets a population spike.

Commander Mav, rarely mentioned but important, would live in his best ending. His brothers are free and he finally gets to choose what he does with his life. That being said, he would 100% still end on Krownest with Solus after some soul searching on his own. He still trains because he likes being able to protect people but that’s not his main focus anymore. The Republic wanted him to be a soldier but that’s not who he is. Now he has so much freedom. He studies various things and picks up a knack for writing novels and art appreciating and cooking. He gets to be Solus’ friend and equal in the eyes of everyone, beyond just her and their group. I could see him taking up helping raise a bunch of the small clones and strongly advocating giving them the serum to slow their aging so they get to have proper childhoods.

Bounty hunting, like the Original, ends up calling to Alpha ARC Tranyc when the war is over. He didn’t much like serving the Republic as a soldier but he does like using his training. Bounty Hunting seems like a nice compromise in still getting to use his skills but living on his own terms. He doesn’t settle into Mandalore but does the occasional breeze by to annoy the fuck out of Mav and try and rope Solus into shenanigans. He succeeds a lot. She makes a great get away/pick up pilot or extra gun. But, he does comm Mav a lot because he likes the overly polite bastard despite his assertion that he’s an asshole loner. They probably talk nearly every day. Even in his happiest world he doesn’t admit feels more for Mav and Solus than her really should. They weren’t supposed to get hot but here they are. 

Iviin has the same dream of a united Mandalore as the rest of the Mandalorians. He doesn’t want to see Death Watch, Shadow Collective, or anyone else ruling. Jaster’s line needs to continue. He never had to become Manda’lor because they still had Jango. There was no need for him to take on that role in his life and it means he gets to serve under a Fett Manda’lor. He happily works from Concord Dawn, and Keldabe or Krownest on occasion, and has Solus as his partner. She’s the pilot of the duo and his sniper when need be. He’s also happy to have Solus’ little Force Sensitive crew running around with them. Call him crazy but he thinks Jazari and Lumi are fun. 

[swfanficbyjz]

SW AU - Fate of the Master Chapter 15

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Months passed and Anakin stayed with Hondo as they slowly gathered another crew. He started going by the code name, Maelstrom and traded his red lightsaber out for a couple blasters.

Ohnaka was an odd pirate, he wouldn't go so far as to call him a good man, but he did seem to have a code of principles he lived by. Anakin allowed himself to turn a blind eye to their questionable dealings, since the captain didn't like to kill. At least not in cold blood. Once, long before the war, this band of pirates would have been a cause for the Jedi to shut down. But those days were long gone. Even with all the fear of the empire; piracy, smuggling and black market dealings flourished. It really amazed him how adaptable and persistent they were. He'd never really given much thought to what motivated people.

When he'd first joined Hondo's crew, he would have said credits was their highest motivation. But now after dozens of missions with them, he was starting to see it differently. They weren't really that different from anyone else, they just wanted to live a life full of pleasure and happiness. The Weequay pirates knew how to party better than anyone he'd ever met. He remembered the first time he discovered that.

Him and Obi wan had been sent to make a deal with Ohnaka to capture count Dooku and bring him back to the republic to face trial for war crimes. Hondo had invited them to join his crew for a feast; good food, good drinks, plenty of entertainment. But apparently him and Obi wan couldn't hold their drinks, and they'd ended up as another bargaining chip. They'd tried to escape multiple times, but failed spectacularly. For a bunch of drunkards, Hondo and his crew were a sly and crafty bunch.

But he had to admit, the party had been pretty fun. And he'd been enjoying all the ones since. He still didn't trust the pirate, but he was a lot different when he was on your side. His favorite thing about hanging with them, was that it was easy to forget your troubles. When he was striking deals and sneaking around, he didn't have to feel the guilt of all that had happened. Sometimes it would creep in at night during quiet moments, but then he could just wash it down with some spice and forget it for awhile.

Hondo often credited him for helping rebuild his pirate empire. Anakin wasn't sure if he was really proud of that, but it was fun to stick it to the empire in new and different ways. More fun than being a serious rebel fighting for freedom. It was a strategy game like the ones he played back in the clone wars. Except it was psychological. He didn't really know if any of the imperials he faced knew that he had been Vader. And he didn't really care. He wasn't running around slashing his lightsaber, so for all they knew, he was just another annoying pirate. One they probably wouldn't survive meeting.

The crew would gather after every successful mission and tell stories and trade news. Then they'd have a couple drinks and party until early morning.  

Anakin didn't really pay a whole lot of attention to what they considered news. It was usually just comparing their exploits to rival pirate gangs.

"Hey hey hey," Hondo's slurred voice broke into his thoughts. "I heard a story the other day that might interest you." Oh here we go, Anakin thought and took another sip of the rum in front of him. He tuned Hondo out and just listened to the music letting the alcohol fuzz his thoughts and feelings. At least until he heard "two white laser swords."

"What did you say?" Anakin snapped to attention.

"Mael, buddy, you need to go easy on those drinks. Your attention span has dropped even by pirate standards." The drunken captain chuckled. "I was saying that I've been hearing stories about this cloaked lady that appears out of nowhere. She swoops in, sets things right, and disappears. Nobody knows who she is or where she goes. But they say that she has two white laser swords like those things you Jedi used to carry around. Oh and get this! She's accompanied by an akul. That's unheard of. The reason those crazy beasts aren't found all over they galaxy is because no one is fool enough to try to tame one."

Anakin's mind was suddenly buzzing. He hadn't really allowed himself to think about Ahsoka since he'd been indoctrinated into Hondo's crew.

"Could you imagine what a powerful ally she'd make! With the two of you by my side, we'd be unstoppable..." Ohnaka's voice faded out and then there was a loud thump as he fell backwards off the stool because he'd passed out. But Anakin really didn't care. He usually found them draped over pretty much anything the mornings after their parties.

"Ahsoka..." he breathed.

–-

Luke sat in the cabin of the millennium falcon leaning over a broken holocommunicator. He had tools spread out in front of it as he fiddled with it trying to make it work again. It had been about five standard months since he'd joined Han and Chewbacca's crew so he could leave Tatooine behind him. He'd been wanting to send a message to Leia for awhile now, but they were never in a safe enough place to do that. His aunt and uncle were probably worried about him, but he didn't really care anymore.

Han Solo was an obnoxious braggart who thought he knew better than anyone. But he could be charming when he wanted to be. He was older than Luke had originally thought, but he didn't really act like it. He teased Luke mercilessly about his beliefs about the Jedi and the force; he claimed it was just a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Despite Luke getting him out of trouble time and time again with it, he remained a disbeliever.

"There! That ought to do it," he said to himself as he snapped the panel back in and tried turning it on. It worked. "Finally," he thought. He typed the numbers to call Leia, rubbing his fingers through his hair and brushing off his jacket.

"Luke!" She cried out. "Everyone's been worried sick! Where have you been?"

He stared at the image of her pretty face. It was nice to know someone cared.

"Oh here and there," he tried to reply casually, but she gave him the look and he spilled the beans immediately. "Dad dumped me back on Tatooine, but I couldn't stay there! I'm supposed to be training to be a Jedi, but my uncle just locked my lightsaber away and forbid me to even talk about it. So I ran away. No big deal. I joined a smugglers' crew. It's fun. We get to mess with the empire and I get to run in and save the day."

"Luke, you're not using the force all the time are you?" She asked nervously. What was she so upset about? He thought if anyone would understand it would be her.

"Of course I am. I'm getting better everyday! I can't wait to show you all I've learned."

"But people see you use it and the lightsaber?"

"All the time. People always ask me what am I? And I say 'I'm a Jedi!'"

"Oh Luke!" She shook her head, "don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"What's so dangerous about it? I can strike down a dozen people with blasters and no one lays a finger on me!" He was getting agitated. Why did everyone think being a Jedi was such a bad thing? He'd always heard good things about them; amazing things! As if sensing his frustration, even at such a distance, her voice softened.

"Do you know what happened at the end of the Clone Wars? Why you only hear stories about them but never meet any?"

"No," he said shaking his head.

"They were slaughtered." She said. "It became a death sentence to be one. Any survivors, anyone that showed signs of being one was hunted mercilessly. If people find out you are one... if they live to tell about it... you'll never be safe again!"

Luke gulped. He'd never thought about it. "But what about dad? And Ahsoka? And old Ben? And and..."

"Did dad tell you why the Jedi disappeared?" She interrupted him.

"He just said that the emperor was manipulating everything. That he turned bad to save mom. But he failed. Why? What really happened?" Luke was feeling disheartened. He thought talking to Leia would make him feel better, not worse.

His sister looked as though she was deciding exactly how to give some bad news. He wanted to stop her. He didn't want to hear it, but he knew he needed to. "Dad is the reason they were nearly wiped out." She said at last. But she didn't have a chance to say more. An explosion rocked the ship.

"We're under attack!" Han yelled at him. "Get in the nose gun!"

"Luke! What's going on?" Leia asked but the connection failed and she flickered away. He jumped up and ran down to the gunner seat. Dad was the reason there weren't many Jedi left... what did that mean?

"Boy! I don't know why I let you talk me into joining my crew! You've brought me nothing but trouble!" Han yelled from the bridge as he tried to outmaneuver the ships that were now chasing them.

"I seem to recall you finding plenty of trouble before I came along!" Luke yelled back. Not really in the mood to argue right now. He shot down two fighters, but they weren't ties. Pirates... he curled his lips in disgust.

"Raaaaaahhgh aaaaahnr huurh!" Chewbacca growled an agreement from the rear gunner's seat.

"Oh can it, Chewie!" Han replied as the ship shuddered from another explosion.

"Why aren't we jumping?" Luke called out as several more ships appeared in view.

"Hyperdrive is broken, we're dead in space. Chewie, get down here and fix it. Boy, prepare for boarding!" Han barked the orders. The falcon trembled as a ship docked with it. "Never mind! In with the goods!" They all scrambled into the secret hiding place of their contraband. Watching through the cracks as a group of pirates walked around the ship searching.

"The ship is empty captain." One of them said.

"It can't be empty, it was shooting back at us. Search again!" Drawled another voice.

Luke's hand tightened on his lightsaber, mentally preparing for battle. But the pirates wandered off.

"So was that your girlfriend?" Han whispered casually.

"What? Ew no!" Luke scowled at him.

"That bad huh? She looked pretty fine to me." Han grinned.

"Aarrragghuuhw?" Chewbacca asked.

"She is fine! She's a princess! And yes I love her," he responded punching the Wookiee on the arm only to get a return punch that knocked the wind out of him, he never learned. "She's my..." he stammered. "She's my sister."

"Now you're just pulling my leg!" Han said but then they all fell silent as some footsteps got closer. They shifted slightly to prepare to surprise the pirates. Luke was always the one that went first. His reflexes were faster and his weapon more destructive.

He counted to himself, wait for it, he thought. And then he pounced. Moving the grate above them with one fluid motion, he leapt up into the air, but before he could swing, he went flying back into the wall of the ship. He hadn't even seen what hit him. As he slumped to the ground, he heard Chewie cry out in pain.

"Take it easy..." Han started but was interrupted by the pirate they'd tried to attack.

"Luke! What the hell are you doing here?"

Luke looked up, his vision was red from the pain of being knocked back. Standing above him was his father.

–-

"Do you two know each other?" Hondo asked coming around the corner with several other pirates on his tail.

"Yes." Anakin said, but Luke had said no at the same time.

Hondo just looked between them. "Well Maelstrom, it's up to you what you want us to do with them." Anakin didn't respond. He was looking at Luke trying to read him. What had happened? Why was he hanging out with these lowlife smugglers? He'd taken his son back to Tatooine believing he'd be better off. Yet here he was in the middle of space glaring up at him.

"Take those two to the brig. I need to have a little chat with my son." Anakin said at last. To Ohnaka's credit, he didn't ask any questions, but he'll probably hear about it later. He loomed over Luke while he waited for everyone else to leave the area. Then he pulled him to his feet and dragged him down the passage to the bridge. "Why aren't you on Tatooine where I left you?" He demanded as soon as the door shut behind them.

"You mean where you abandoned me?" Luke replied venomously. Anakin was taken aback.

"I didn't abandon you!" He said, his voice rising. "I was protecting you! Keeping you safe!"

"Protecting me from who? You?" Luke hissed. Crossing his arms. "Good job!"

Anakin froze. What had Luke heard? What did he know?

"Luke," he said trying to steady himself. "I told you, I had some things I had to work out. I can't offer you a better life until I do."

"Is joining pirates one of them? I don't want to hear your lies. Why are all the Jedi dead? What did you do?"

Anakin felt anger burn in him again. He had kept wishing people would punish him for the mistakes he made, but he never expected it to be his son. There was no easy way to tell him the truth. No way to spin it so it didn't seem so bad. He wanted to just yell. To just rant. To let all of it out. But what was the point? No one could ever hear what he had to say and believe it was justified. He didn't even believe that.

He could feel the seething anger in Luke as well. He could see himself in him, and suddenly he felt lost and broken all over again. If Ahsoka were here, she'd respond to him with love. She'd be tender and sweet and tell him everything would be alright until even he believed it. But she wasn't here. And now he saw, for the first time since he'd come back to the light, that the true consequences of his actions would never be felt by him. Only those impacted by his choices.

He sat down hard in the other chair. He didn't have a clue where to start. How do you explain it? Maybe you didn't.

His comm beeped but he ignored it. Him and Luke sat in silence for a long while as Anakin just breathed in the waves of anger and hate that rippled off of Luke like they once had him. "I made mistakes." He said softly. "So many mistakes."

Luke didn't look up at him. He knew the moment the words came out they were weak. Nothing could ever be said about what he'd done that wouldn't be weak.

"I failed as a Jedi because I fell in love with your mother. Jedi aren't allowed to form attachments. They create emotions that can lead you to the dark side; jealousy, anger, hate, fear... I was afraid to lose her. I started having visions that I would. That she would die in childbirth. I couldn't let that happen. I knew the Jedi, who had forbidden attachments, would not help me..."

"So you slaughtered them?" Luke interrupted savagely.

Anakin was trying to resist the anger that was bubbling beneath the surface, but it was getting increasingly difficult. "No... well... I let a Sith Lord manipulate me into believing that if I joined him, I'd be able to save her. I was so desperate to at that point, I would do whatever it took. And that meant obeying my dark master's commands so that he would teach me the power."

Their lives for Padmé's... at the time, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable trade. But now as he looked in the eyes of his son... he saw reflected back at him the monster he'd become. How had anybody been able to show him love? It couldn't be love. Nobody could love that.

----

He got up angrily. He just wanted to burn it all down. What right did Ahsoka have pulling him back to the light? Lying to him, pretending? Making him believe there was hope for him? She was wrong, there was no hope. There was nothing left for him. He pulled his red lightsaber out of the pocket of his shirt and ignited it. Luke had jumped out of his seat the moment Anakin had stood. He too had his lightsaber lit.

"How dare you?" His son screamed at him. "I've spent every day of my life wishing my mother was alive, but not at such a horrendous cost! You were one of them! You betrayed them! You're the one that should have died! Not her!"

The fury overtook Anakin before he could restrain himself. He swung wickedly at the boy in front of him. Luke fought back with such ferocity that it surprised him. They moved throughout the ship, lightsabers clashing, both fighting from a source of rage and hatred. Luke's skills had tripled since he'd last seen him. They fought as though to the death, but when the ship suddenly tilted, it threw them both off balance and Anakin cut right through his son's arm. Luke screamed in pain and fell to the floor.

Something inside him snapped back to reality at the sight of his son in so much pain. He dropped his lightsaber and knelt down. But Luke kicked up at him and then got up and ran away. Anakin went racing after him, but was thrown off balance again when the ship tilted again the other way.

"Maelstrom!" His comm buzzed with Hondo's frantic voice. "The empire is here and has us all caught in a tractor beam. They're pulling us in!" Anakin didn't answer, he just kept chasing after his son.

Next Chapter ->

[flashinglights-rp]

MALEA RHODES ➝ SECOND SIBLING

AS YOU RECALL, YOU KNOW I LOVE TO SHOW OFF

◈ FULL NAME: Malea Jaymes Rhodes. ◈ GENDER: Female. ◈ PRONOUNS: She/Her. ◈ AGE: 24. (October 28th). ◈ BIRTH ORDER: Second. Adopted. ◈ HOMETOWN: London, England. ◈ CURRENT LOCATION: Los Angeles, California. ◈ JOB ROLE: Singer, Talent Scout & Business Owner (Porn Sector). ◈ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual. ◈ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Demiromantic. ◈ FACECLAIM: Yvette Monreal.

BUT YOU NEVER THOUGHT THAT I WOULD TAKE IT THIS FAR

April Rhodes’ childhood was not an easy one. In fact, it was quite the opposite, raised by parents who found it easier to use their hands than their words, and when they did use their words, they were never kind ones, it was no surprise that April decided living on the street was a better option for herself as a teenager. It wasn’t long before she knew she needed a way to make money to get by, and unfortunately selling her own body was the way she found to do it. It was a short leap from there, to working in the porn industry, a profession which was safer than working the streets, and paid better, but not by much on either account. Though she never felt shame for the way she chose to support herself, she did wish she didn’t need to do it to get by. It was a blessing when a distant relative passed away, leaving April a small, modest inheritance, but enough for the woman to live on comfortably for quite some time, so long as she lived in her means, something she strongly intended to do.

Not too long after she got out, unforeseen circumstances lead to her adopting a baby girl, Kailee Nicole. April loved that baby with all of her heart, and vowed never to treat her the way her parents had treated her when she grew up. It was a bumpy road at first, April having no idea how to raise a baby, but it was a road they stumbled down together, and April loved every second of it, almost as much as she loved her baby. It was just over a year later that another blessing would find it’s way to April. Though April had never met Tiffany Jaymes, Tiffany had heard about April, through a friend named Crystal she had worked with. And when Tiffany found herself in quite a similar position, she asked the other woman to reach out to April for her. April agreed readily, to take the baby for Tiffany. And a few months later, when Kailee was barely over a year old, Malea Jaymes Rhodes came along. If April thought it was a rough road with one baby, she had no idea what was coming for with two, but she took it in stride, falling into her role as a mother, not so gracefully, but happily all the same.

Malea was a quiet baby, and easy one, who barely fussed. And as she grew, that soft and gentle demeanor only grew in the child. Her sister was more outgoing, more relatable when it came to the kids in school, but Malea was no less friendly. She was quiet, and shy, but kind-hearted and incredibly empathetic. Kailee was one of the only ones who could really coax her out of her shell at school, but at home she was just as free spirited as her sister and mother. The Rhodes house was always filled with laughter and music. Whether the music was flowing through speakers, or straight of out April’s mouth, the girls grew to love it. April’s voice could put the two into a trance, it was mesmerizing, watching the woman who they loved so unconditionally so happy and full of joy. And there was nothing a song couldn’t fix, whether it was a skinned knee, a vicious game of tug of war over a toy both girls wanted, or a monster under the bed. April always knew when to step in, and when to let the girls work it out amongst themselves, April was naturally a good mother.

As the girls grew a bit older, April began to work in a bar as a jazz singer, just a few nights a week, and only after the girls were asleep so they wouldn’t miss her. It was on one of these nights that fate seemed to intervene with the Rhodes girls again, their babysitter fell sick, and April had no choice to but pick them up and bring the two small girls to work with her. One thing lead to another, and the girls’ love for music overtook them both, drawing them both on stage with their mother to sing with her. Kailee, being the confident girl she was, lead the way, Malea following shortly after, only thrown off by the crowd momentarily before she followed with her. Malea had an instant love for the spotlight, which was surprising considering how shy she usually was. Maybe it was the bright lights blocking out almost everything from sight, or maybe it was just the fact that music was never something she had to question, but the stage never scared her after that first moment. And April could tell, she could tell her daughters were natural singers, and performers, and asked them if they’d like to take lessons. Both agreed happily, and began voice lessons, as well as some instruments.

While singing was something that Malea naturally took a liking to, instruments were harder. She had to try quite a few, including the saxophone, the violin, the flute, and the drums, before deciding after only one to two classes that they weren’t for her. She found the guitar first, and instantly found she liked it, and then came the piano, and not only did she instantly like it, but she felt a natural ease when she played. Her hands glided across the keys as if it were as easy as pulling on a pair of socks. The girl was barely old enough to tie her own shoes, but put her in front of a piano, and she could produce sounds. Later, in her teens, she found that not only could she play, but she had the ability to hear music, and know how to play it, and it wasn’t long after that that she also found a love for writing music. Though singing was still her biggest passion, her talent with the piano didn’t go unnoticed by her teacher, who urged her to enter music competitions, but Malea had never been the competitive type, and feared that going that route would take the joy out of it for her.

Though competitiveness was not in her nature, Kailee and Malea found themselves drawn to the TV every week when the show The X-Factor aired, cheering on their favorites, and singing along to every song they knew. It was almost unspoken between them, that they both had a desire to be on the show themselves, that when it was finally spoken off, they both agreed that they needed to try. After begging, and pleading, and lots of pouting, April agreed. She didn’t think that the girls would win, and didn’t know if it was the best ideas, but she decided they should have the experience of it, and that if nothing else, singing in front of a crowd that big would be something they two girls would never forget. So the next year, they waited in an impossibly long line, waiting for their turn to wow the judges. Kailee with her guitar, Malea with her keyboard, and both prepared with their favorite song, the two marched on the stage, and dominated the entire arena in front of them, earning them four yeses and a shot straight through the the next round.

April was thrilled with how well they did, and while it wasn’t the outcome she’d expected, she couldn’t deny that the stage was exactly where the two of them were meant to be. They competed together in the group section, at the young ages of only 12 and 13, the two girls were some of the youngest in the competition, and as they were under-aged, their mother got to be with them every step of the way. And it was a good thing, as that long away from each other probably would have made Malea want to back out of the whole thing entirely. Thank god she didn’t have to, because the girls flourished in the competition. With Simon Cowell as their mentor, and their mother by their side, or backstage waiting for them, the girls flew through the competition, eventually going on to win the entire competition.

Kalea rose quickly, their fame growing faster than anyone could have predicted. April did well at keeping them grounded, school still came first, and she never let them get overworked, but it was an instant whirlwind of recording music, concerts, signing autographs, and both girls absolutely loved it. Soon the entire UK knew who they were, and they couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. Luckily, this never killed their love for the music. The girls’ relationship with Simon didn’t end with the end of the season. In fact, after spending so much time mentoring them, he kept them under his wing, and after spending some time with April, slowly began to realize there was a spark between the two. While Malea had never even considered that their family was missing anything, it was an instant realization for her that Simon was exactly what she never knew they were missing. He was a perfect fit for them. Kailee and Malea never knew either of the fathers, but Simon stepped in and filled that role completely. It wasn’t long before the two were married, and their happy family was complete, at least for now.

The two had to work hard to get through school, always wishing they could be performing instead, but as soon as Malea graduated, the music became their full time job. They moved to LA, and that was when their career hit a whole new level. They were older now, their voices, and their content more mature, and they skyrocketed, becoming so well known that when her sister took a step into the business side, Malea couldn’t help but be drawn to follow. The girls wanted to know every aspect of the business that they possibly could, and Simon wanted that for them, too. Taking them under his wing again, he brought them into his business, and it wasn’t long before they became something close to Simon’s clones, doing exactly what he did, and having just as high standards of work.

Just before moving to LA, April found out she was pregnant. Maybe some adopted children would be afraid that their mother would love her biological children more than them, but that was a thought that never even crossed Malea’s mind. She knew that her and Kailee, and now Simon, were April’s whole world, and this baby would just add to that. Not long after, it was discovered that not only was April pregnant, but she was pregnant with twins. The four of them couldn’t have been happier, and anxiously awaited their birth. But they weren’t the only ones. The country had fallen in love with not only Malea and Kailee, but with Simon and April, with their relationship, and with their family in general. Even in the US, where Kalea wasn’t that popular yet, Simon was popular, and his wife, and singing daughters were adored from a afar. The two countries practically had a countdown going waiting for the arrival of April’s babies. And when the two boys arrived, again, they were the missing pieces of the family that none of them knew they were missing.

Nicholas Kyle, named after Kailee Nicole came first, followed just a few minutes later by James Mark, named after Malea. While still in the hospital room, April and Simon asked the girls if they’d like to be each be a godmother to their namesake. Of course, both girls eagerly agreed, and the boys became more than just their brothers. They weren’t April and Simon’s babies, they were the families babies, the girls thinking of them as theirs just as much as their parents.

April and Simon were the only parents Malea ever knew. While Kailee was able to meet her birth mother, Malea’s birthmother, Tiffany, had made April agree from the start that Malea and her wouldn’t meet. April had agreed, decided that it was Tiffany’s choice, and held true to the promise. When Malea was younger, it was hard for her to understand, but April had always been more than enough of a mother to her and had loved her unconditionally. As Malea got older, she began to understand more. Knowing what her mother and what Kailee’s “Aunt Crystal” had gone through, as well as the many of their friends they met, she didn’t fault Tiffany for not wanting to meet the baby she had to give up, and rather just focused on appreciating her for making the decision to give her to April. Crystal knew Tiffany somewhat, and told Malea a bit about her, but Malea was a happy girl, and she didn’t feel the need to question it further, rather just decided to be grateful for all that she had in life.

Kailee and Malea were both so grateful for the life their mother, their best friend, their biggest cheerleader, had given them, that now, as adults, with quite a bit of their own money, and their own popularity, they decided to do something to honor her. Kalea Productions was born, a female positive porn production company. While it may not have seemed like the things most girls would do to honor their mother, it was fitting for the Rhodes girls. April had never been ashamed of her work as a porn star, though she never wanted that life for her daughters, she felt that it was a valid choice for anyone who felt the need to choose that path, she only wished for safer conditions. Kalea Productions was just that. A place for women who chose porn as their industry of choice, a place where they could be safe from harm and dangerous conditions, where they were never compromised, with good pay, healthy benefits, clean and safe working conditions. The women are provided with regular medical testing, and beyond that, they were given something that their own mothers were never afforded. They provided maternity leave for any woman who became pregnant, whether on the job or not, and helped with any medical bills ,or decisions that needed to be made. They even provided off site daycare, free of charge. Kailee and Malea wanted to take their mother’s dream of offering a safe, and welcoming environment, along with all of the knowledge they gained from their mother and her friends, to create a successful and ground-breaking business. The business is still new, and while no one knows what the future holds, they have made an excellent start at doing exactly what they’ve set out to do.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW? FLASHING LIGHTS, LIGHTS

Malea likes to change her style quite often. Cute dresses, and kitten heels to today, with combat boots and a leather jacket tomorrow. She dresses to suit her mood, or just finds fun pieces and works an outfit around them. Her hair is no different. She changes the color often, sometimes letting it be it’s natural deep brown, but tomorrow she might dye it bright read, or maybe give herself purple highlights. She’s had her hair every color of the rainbow, and sometimes all at once. She’ll wear it down, or up, or sometimes in braids on one side, and may just show up to work with one side shaved off. She loves to experiment with her clothes, and her hair. She has a tattoo on her thigh that says “Curiosity often leads to trouble” from Alice in Wonderland, has and has multiple ear piercings.