#Jedi Master Shaft

[marvelstars]

Return of the Jedi by James Khan

"Ignoring pain, ignoring his shame and his weaknesses, ignoring the bone crushing noise in his head, he focused solwly and sightlessly on his will, his will to defeat the evil embodied in the Emperor"

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

[galactic-rhea]

Do you know how shows always have teens taking care of a babydoll as some sort of homework? Like, I don't know if americans really do that. But Imagine if the Jedi do.

So they give the padawans these baby dolls to take care of for Idk how much time and Anakin, being Anakin, just...is unfairly good at it. He names the baby doll Jinn and imagine Obi-Wan having breakfast with Anakin who's pretending to feed the baby doll thing and just...staring because it's extremely uncomfortable.

Then Obi-Wan shares a tea with Quinlan or idk, any other Jedi and he's looking over at Anakin who is in the background with a damn stroller, while Quinlan's padawan (Ayla, if I'm not mistaken?) already lost one arm of her doll and just left it there on a corner because of course a normal teenager would find this boring. And Obi-Wan is starting to get desperate because "Is this normal? Is this because he wasn't raised in the temple? Is this a Tatooine thing?"

And then the day when the assignation ends finally rolls over and Obi-Wan is relieved because finally he won't have to see more of the absolute horror that is watching a young teenager acting like a great single parent to a doll. And for the first time so far, Anakin gets the best calification ever. But THEN they tell him to retrieve the damn doll and Anakin goes all puffy like "I CAN'T JUST GIVE JINN AWAY"

And the masters are like...trying to placate this teenager who suddenly is having the weirdest reaction they have ever seen and they call Obi-Wan because how they deal with a meltdown over a doll? But Obi-Wan being Obi-Wan just says one of these attachment speeches and extends his hand to ask for the doll and Anakin is already shaking while everyone is like wtf is wrong with this kid. And Anakin just...stright up starts running, that's right, he kidnaps the doll he has been taking care of for what, a month? two months?

So you have the hilarious image of Anakin running with a doll and Obi-Wan running after him yelling at Anakin because of course they would do that.

And I don't know how or what, but then they come closer to some shaft in the temple or maybe a balcony somehow and Obi-Wan tries again to tell Anakin is just a kriffing doll, padawan, isn't alive at all! And Anakin trips and loses the grip on the doll, so the baby doll falls down the shaft.

Cue to Anakin looking in horror sending waves of loss through the force as the babydoll falls while everyone else is just...confused, utterly confused.

[saphronethaleph]

Nothing Succeeds Like Succession

“Your hatred, your anger,” Sheev Palpatine said, chuckling in what he probably thought was a kindly fashion. “You want to kill me… that is what I want. Kill me, and my spirit will pass into you.”

Rey frowned.

“...I have several questions,” she said. “Firstly, uh… are you trans? Because there are more ethical ways to transition. I’m sure there must be less ethical ways as well, but I’m having trouble thinking of one right now.”

“What?” Palpatine said. “No. I’m not. I have access to matchless genetic engineers and the ability to transfer my spirit into a new body. Cease this nonsense.”

“You have to admit, it’s the first thing to come up,” Rey countered.

“I have to admit no such thing,” Palpatine said, crossly.

“Right,” Rey disagreed. “Anyway, moving on… how does that work, exactly?”

Palpatine tutted.

“I have the ability to transfer my spirit into another body,” he reiterated. “Like this one.”

“So that isn’t the body you were in when you were thrown down a shaft overlooking the Death Star reactor?” Rey asked. “Because, honestly, it looks like it was. If you were going to make a body why would it look like it was over a hundred years old and had been blown up at least once?”

“Because-” Palpatine began, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter!”

“Only, I’ve heard about the Kaminoan clones,” Rey went on. “And I get that the average one would be physically about a hundred and thirty by now, but if your genetic engineers were matchless I just think you could have done, you know… yourself at forty years old.”

She shook her head. “But that’s not the important bit, not really. If you can transfer your spirit into another body, how does that work?”

“All the Sith live in me,” Palpatine said, in case Rey hadn’t heard that.

“That isn’t actually a very useful explanation,” Rey objected. “In fact, so far I haven’t heard anything that indicates you’re not just an insane clone who assumed he was my grandfather.”

“Insolent girl!” Palpatine snapped, then brought his temper under control. “It works, because it has worked for a thousand years. It is the Banite way.”

Rey looked blank.

“...the Rule of Two?” Palpatine tried. “The rule that there are always only two Sith, no more, and no less?”

“Okay,” Rey said. “Who’s the other one?”

Palpatine was silent for a moment.

“The position is open,” he conceded. “Open for you, my granddaughter! Strike me down and become the eternal Sith!”

“At which point there would still only be one,” Rey pointed out, helpfully. “What does Banite mean?”

“It is the way of the Sith!” Palpatine said.

“Helpful,” Rey said. “Well… actually, no, not helpful. Completely unhelpful.”

Palpatine sighed.

“Darth Bane was the last survivor of the Sith, somewhat more than a thousand years ago,” he said, with a semblance of patience. “To put an end to the infighting that had led the Sith to lose the war with the Jedi, he imposed the Rule of Two. That rule is that there will be a Master, to embody power, and an Apprentice, to strive for it. Eventually the Apprentice grows strong, and attempts to take power from the Master.”

Palpatine chuckled. “If the Apprentice is defeated, they were not strong enough. If the Apprentice wins, and slays their Master, then the power of the Master flows into the Apprentice – and the Master live on, in the new Master. And the cycle continues. So all Sith will live as one.”

“...I still have several questions,” Rey said.

Palpatine rolled his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he said. “And no doubt they will be as tiresome and tedious as your previous ones.”

“Who are you, then?” Rey asked. “Are you Sheev Palpatine?”

“Yes,” Palpatine answered. “Of course. You know this.”

“Just checking,” Rey replied. “Because it’s that or you’re Darth Bane. But you talked about Darth Bane in the third person. In the past tense. Which I think means that if this actually happened the you who’s speaking wouldn’t be the Master. Someone else would be.”

Palpatine looked vaguely troubled, then shook his head.

“It matters not!” he said. “You will strike me down, you will become Empress, and we will be one!”

“I’ve already pointed out some flaws there,” Rey countered. “But there’s something else, too. The way you described it, with the Apprentice killing the Master – that’s the way it’s worked for a thousand years?”

“For a thousand years!” Palpatine confirmed.

“It’s always been a Sith apprentice?” Rey pressed. “Always someone using the Dark Side of the Force?”

“Of course!” Palpatine declared. “We were secret from the Jedi for all that time!”

“Then it doesn’t actually sound like you know how this works very well,” Rey said. “You’ve been assuming that my striking you down would turn me into a Sith. But that’s not what happens when you strike down a Sith.”

Palpatine frowned.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“I thought it was obvious,” Rey replied. “The Jedi and the Sith went to war in the past, and the Jedi won. Which would be impossible if striking down a Sith made you a Sith. It’s just that up to this point all the people who this ritual has happened to are Sith. It doesn’t turn them into Sith, they were already Sith.”

She waved her hand. “The idea that killing a Sith makes you fall to the Dark Side actually sounds so ridiculously convenient for the Sith that I bet they’d say it a lot.”

“...Anakin Skywalker was not a Sith when he killed Count Dooku,” Palpatine said, reluctantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure if it was good or bad for his own argument. “And he fell to the Dark Side.”

“I’ve heard a lot about him,” Rey replied. “Mostly from Ben, who I think is a Vader superfan, he spent months using our weird connection to talk about it.”

“...what weird connection?” Palpatine asked.

“Oh, and just to be clear,” Rey added. “I know about the Force Lightning.”

Palpatine was distracted from the distraction from his original topic, and blinked at Rey.

“What,” he asked.

“I know about the Force Lightning,” Rey reiterated, drawing both lightsabers – Leia’s one and the Skywalker lightsaber. “You’re both armed and a man who’s credibly declared war on the whole galaxy, which I think makes you hostis sapiens generis.”

“Strike me down, and-” Palpatine said, and Rey did, on both the previously stated grounds and also because as an extremely old man who was literally asking for it it was probably more expedient than going to a specialist clinic.

“Rey?” Ben asked, a couple of minutes later, as he entered the underground room. “I get the idea you’re here?”

He waved the blue lightsaber around. “Thanks for this, by the way, because, uh… otherwise I really would have had trouble with my old followers. Just wondering, what was going on?”

“Oh, right,” Rey replied. “I should probably explain. Shut up.”

“Huh?” Ben asked.

“Not you, them,” Rey replied. “Since I passed you the lightsaber they’ve all been going on about a mythical dyad. I’ve got about… twenty Sith Lords in my head now.”

“Are you all right?” Ben said, worried. “How did that even happen?”

“I struck Palpatine down,” Rey replied. “Which, as he warned me, meant that the Sith passed into me… but, as they apparently didn’t realize, that doesn’t actually give them control or make me evil or anything. It’s just that everyone who’d done it before was a Sith.”

Ben absorbed that.

“Huh,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I may need psychological counselling,” Rey replied. “But I’ve heard of intrusive thoughts and I think this doesn’t really rise much above that. Anyway, I’ve given the proper succession codes and told the Final Order to stop trying to shoot down the Resistance… any idea what I should do next?”

That made Ben pause.

“You’ve got twenty Sith Lords giving you suggestions?” he asked, still a bit hung up on that.

“Yes, but none of them are helpful in this situation,” Rey replied. “Plagueis, for example, is telling me to cut their pay, and I can’t even tell if that’s a good or bad move here because my main concept of money is dehydrated muffin portions.”

Ben had the feeling he had a very strange expression on his face right then.

“...dehydrated muffin portions?” he asked.

“Jakku was not a particularly pleasant place to grow up,” Rey replied. “And Sidious isn’t shutting up about how Naboo was just as bad because it had aliens. I think my grandfather’s mostly just racist.”

She shrugged. “Still, plus side, now the Sith are having an argument about which species is the best, so that should get them out of my hair for a while…”

[kalak]

Luke knowing the bare minimum and palpatine knowing all the things makes for a hilarious juxtaposition. By the time the original trilogy happens, palpatine had already won. The jedi are nearly extinct, he has his death star, he has a durasteel grip on the galaxy, his master plan of toppling the republic has succeeded with thunderous applause.

Luke doesn't know all that. Luke doesn't know shit. He literally is in the dark regarding the force and the politics. And his heritage. He doesn't know how much meticulous planning and scheming palpatine did! He has no idea of what happened to make the republic fall, he has no idea that palpatine is even a sith until he meets him in the second death star - to palpatine, luke would have been such an unsatisfying hero, he doesn't even know enough to fully appreciate his genius, the craft behind his empire.

Luke's just a pawn to be played with, another of the thousand fledgling jedi that palpatine has played with countless of times. He doesn't have the decades of knowledge nor the acumen palpatine has accumulated over the years - what can he possibly scheme up to topple palpatine? But then Luke just puts a lightsaber through palpatine's Gordian knot and. Wham down the reactor shaft you go

[des8pudels8kern]

If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.

There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.

What’s that?

Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.

“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”

The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.

“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.

Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.

“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”

The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.

“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”

His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.

Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.

And get a closer look at the colour.

...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?

[padawanlost]

What actually happened between Tru, Ferus and Anakin in that final book? I read it a long time ago but as far as I know, Anakin had not been asked to fix Tru's lightsaber, he accidentally heard them talking about it, figured out what they missed and simply didn't say anything at the moment. He planned to tell after and genuinely forgot

"All right, I fixed it." Ferus put the handle back together and handed the lightsaber back to Tru. "You shouldn't have any more problems. Your power cell is boosted." Anakin started to step forward. If Ferus had worked on the power cell, that meant that Tru needed to check the flux aperture again. Anakin had tweaked it before, but it might need an adjustment to compensate for the power boost. Anyway, it would be wise to double-check. Anakin had better tell him. But he stopped when he heard his name. "Why didn't you ask Anakin to fix it?" Ferus asked. "He's better at this than I am." "He was busy with Obi-Wan," Tru murmured. Anakin realized that Tru had evaded the question. He could have asked him to help. He frowned as he watched the two Padawans, their heads close together. Tru was drifting away from him. He could feel it. [Jude Watson. The Final Showdown]

On Korriban, while Ferus fixed Tru’s lightsaber, Anaki overheard their conversation. He didn’t know for sure the lightsaber was faulty but he believe he could do a better job because he had fixed it before and knew it better than Ferus how to adjust it. However, because of his rivalry with Ferus and his fear of losing Tru’s friendship he didn’t say anything to either of them.

Not long after they ended up in a fight and that’s when Anakin realized something was actually wrong with Tru’s lightsaber:

The creatures carved from stone that sat on the ledges took flight in shimmering images of fire and destruction. Tru ducked as one of them flew directly in his face, but the creature became nothing but particles of dust. Anakin saw Tru grip his lightsaber more tightly. Tru's lightsaber! He had forgotten to tell him to check the readout for the flux aperture! He had walked away, angry and hurt. Why hadn't he remembered? Had he wanted to forget? He couldn't do it now. If he did, the Masters would know that Tru's lightsaber had broken and he hadn't told Ry-Gaul. He would get himself and Tru in trouble. And Ferus probably had fixed it perfectly, the way he did everything else. [Jude Watson. The Final Showdown]

Not reporting a problem this big to your master was a big no-no and that’s why neither Tru non Ferus told their masters of the issue. And Anakin, in anger, rationalized that he couldn’t tell either and since Ferus was so perfect he probably could solve the problem.

Tru had leaped up on a tomb to fight two zombies. With his flexible arms and legs, he moved like a rolling wave. He took down three thermal detonators that were flying through the air. He swung his lightsaber in an arc. It flickered. Anakin watched in horror as it buzzed, the shaft flickering again and again. It was losing power! Tru was in the middle of them. Obi-Wan hadn't seen it. He had charged forward, the way to Omega now clear. Everything in Anakin screamed to follow Obi-Wan, to be in on the capture of Omega. Except one thing. Friendship. But he had hesitated too long. As he watched, Ferus and Tru exchanged a glance. Simultaneously, Ferus and Tru flipped their lightsabers through the air. Tru caught Ferus's, and Ferus caught Tru's. [Jude Watson. The Final Showdown]

Eventually Ferus and Tru exchanged lightsabers as the mission went one. When Darra, their fellow padawan, noticed Ferus was in trouble she tried to help but ended up in front of them.

Anakin wrenched his attention back to Tru. Because Ferus was watching Tru's back, he was the only one in Omega's path. The Jedi Masters had all been at the fore of the fight. Ferus's lightsaber flickered in the dark. Seeing that he was in trouble, Darra Force-leaped toward Ferus, her lightsaber held high, determined to save him. Anakin saw the smile on Omega's face when he fired. The bolts hit Darra straight in the chest. She fell, still keeping her body between Omega and Ferus. Soara cried out. Anakin felt the moment spin out into impossible time, time that froze everything, even his heart.   [Jude Watson. The Final Showdown]

As a result of all this, Ferus Olin resigned from the Jedi Order and Tru ended his friendship with Anakin:

[Anakin] felt a rustle behind him, and saw Tru backing out of the chamber. "Tru!" Anakin called. Reluctantly, Tru edged in a few steps. "Do you know anything?" Tru shook his head. He didn't quite meet Anakin's eyes. "I haven't seen much of you since we've been back," Anakin said. "I know." […]"You were thinking of the mission," Anakin said. "We were all wrong," Tru continued, as if he hadn't even registered what Anakin had said. "We did our best," Anakin said. "And Omega is dead." "So is Darra." Tru turned and walked out. Anakin started after him. Something was wrong. Something had changed between him and his friend, and he didn't know why.

"But I did. I knew that Tru's lightsaber had malfunctioned. I offered to fix it secretly. I did not tell his Master or urge him to do so. His lightsaber failed in battle, and Darra was killed trying to protect me." "But you thought you'd fixed it!" Ferus stopped. He gazed at Anakin for a long moment. "You knew?" he asked. "You knew Tru's lightsaber had broken? You must have seen me fixing it." "I didn't say that." "No. You didn't. But there are only the two of us here, Anakin. You don't have to lie." Anakin said nothing. As usual, Ferus was trying to trap him, trying to show Anakin how much nobler he was. "When we got back, I took it to the Jedi Master Tolan Hing," Ferus said, naming the Jedi who was known for his expertise in the workings of a lightsaber. "He told me that that the fusing between the flux aperture and the power cell needed a slight adjustment. Nothing major — Tru might never have noticed it. Except that in battle, the power drained faster than normal." "I don't know why you're telling me this…." Tru's voice came from behind him. "Because you fixed the flux aperture. And you would have known that it needed to be rechecked after the power cell boost." Anakin turned. "You didn't come to me!" Tru shook his head. "That's funny. Shouldn't you have said, But I didn't know it was broken?" "You're trying to trap me," Anakin said. "Both of you," he added, with an angry look at Ferus. "Tru, I would never do anything deliberately to put you in a position.." Tru's face hardened. His silver eyes held a sheen Anakin had never seen before. They were icy, as though Anakin could slip off his gaze. "I wondered," Tru said. "When we got back here, I wondered if you knew. I saw how you froze in the tomb. 'But not my friend,' I said to myself. 'My friend would not do that.' But then I thought about how you feel about Ferus, how angry you had been. You would want him to get in trouble, even if it meant exposing me." "That's not fair!" "And suddenly I realized — yes, Anakin could have done that." "You're looking at this all wrong," Anakin said. But how could he explain? He couldn't admit that he knew that Tru's lightsaber was broken because he couldn't explain why he'd forgotten to tell him to readjust it. He still didn't know how he'd forgotten something so crucial. Tru would think he'd deliberately forgotten it. There was nothing he could say to convince him otherwise, because he himself didn't know. "I don't think so," Tru said. "I think I'm truly seeing you for the first time." Anakin swallowed. He didn't know what to say. This was an unfamiliar Tru, not the friend of his childhood. "I'll see you outside," Tru said to Ferus, and walked out.

Darra’s death was traumatic to all of them but the way they treated Anakin was very biased. At least, for characters who was supposed represent what a “good jedi” was supposed to be. Neither of them truly listened to Anakin’s explanation. And the author fails to give Anakin’s much depth beyond: he’s jealous/angry. I mean, it feels like everyone already knows he will become Darth Vader. And that’ so unfair to young Anakin.

[graylinesspam]

Most people's hands develop calluses from wielding their lightsaber. Ahsoka has seen thousands of them. Puckering skin along the tops of their palms. Raised patches of skin across the side of their thumbs

There were differences between species, like the way that wookiee skin polishes to a near shine when it's worn against. Or the way the aquatic species scales would wear away until rough scar tissue replaced them.

But Anakin's metal arm was incapable of wearing in the same way that flesh does. Given the choice between which metal he wanted to be stronger Anakin chose his hand. The grip on his lightsaber is made of some common alloy, something cheap and easy to replace. It's not a soft metal by any means simply softer than his hand. So the place where his fingers grasp it has worn shallow grooves in.

Ahsoka turns the hilt around in her hands analyzing the way his hands slide along the shaft as he wields his weapon.

She can see the shape of his fingers in the marks, the places he grips harder are worn roughly, tension scratches catching on the lines across the pads of her fingers. But there are other lines worn smooth and reflective. She's sure those are marks from his thumb sliding along the length of it when he switches his stances.

His hand is so strong. Strong enough to swing around the heavy lightsaber. Strong enough to wear away at the metal.

Your lightsaber is your life.

Ahsoka holds Anakin's in her hands.

She wishes she didn't. Wishes she never had to. She hates this part of their relationship. Being a padawan means being responsible for your master as much as they are for you. If he wasn't so reckless. If they weren't in a war. If the council would only take their lives more seriously. If she were stronger. better.

She's in the bargaining stage now. She can feel that.

She hates sitting beside his bed. Anakin was supposed to be strong. Stronger than her. Better than her. How was she supposed to hold his life in her hands. They were so much smaller. So much weaker than his. And he was so much. So much personality. So much presence in the force. So much responsibility.

She has no idea how Obi-wan carried him and the responsibility of being a master.

The weight of it is as heavy as his lightsaber in her hand.

But she will carry it. Until he's strong enough to wake again and take it from her. A jedi's lightsaber is their life. And so long as he is unconscious Ahsoka will care for it. She will guard it. The way a padawan is supposed to.

Force knows Anakin has done it plenty of times for her.

Headcannon that Jedi lightsabers are never supposed to be put down. It's bad luck and general bad safe guarding practice for them to be unattended anywhere outside of the temple. So partners are trained to look after each other's lightsabers if they are ever incapacitated. Regardless of what kind of partnership it is.

But padawans and masters especially practice this and it's like a huge trust building exercise.

[godmybackhurts]

The Star Wars time travel AU I'll never get around to writing

Anakin had just thrown Palpatine down the shaft, and this time, had avoided most of the lightning. Just as he is about to collapse, there is a flash, as if he had been struck once more. When it clears, he is on Naboo, right as Maul is about to stab Qui-Gon. Without thinking, he calls his lightsaber to him (it had managed to come with him) and blocks the strike. Despite being bulky and slow and unable to even dodge, he's a master swordsman, leagues better than Maul, and more powerful in the Force. So he "kills" Maul, by slicing him in half, right as Obi-Wan gets in (Maul still survives on the trash planet, but now his anger is not directed at Obi-Wan, it is directed at the man in the black mask, the rival apprentice; he never gets his revenge, never gets to make the man hurt, because he has no connections in this life)

Qui-Gon survives, and once he's gotten through the shock, he and Obi-Wan pull their blades on Anakin. They do not know he isn't there to kill them. After all, he's dressed similarly enough to the Sith apprentice who just tried exactly that. And infighting is the way of the Sith, after all, maybe this one wanted a leg up. He does not attack, only defends (he cannot use Soresu as effectively as Master Kenobi ever could, but he can still use it well enough, in conjunction with the force). It takes Padmé arriving to stop the Jedi. Eventually, he is asked his name. He knows that he can never go by Anakin again, so he continues to use Vader. He does not get any improvements to his suit (only to his prosthetics, which he does himself) except for one thing. He has it remade in more traditional Jedi colors. He does not stop his reliance on it, nor the overall design, and with very little explanation, only "So I do not become again what I once was."

[smeraldo-heart]

Young Cal absolutely KILLS me.

He was with Master Tapal when the older spoke to Anakin, shortly after the latter became a Knight.

He is described as precocious 😭 because of how he rarely struggled, but he was also kind and generous. He couldn’t deal with failure and that was the whole reason why he was assigned to Master Tapal.

He froze when he saw a droideka out on the battlefield and his Master had to save him.

He was close with his clones, high-fived them and even had a rematch planned with one of them (which implied he regularly played games with them).

Master Tapal made him run drills of escaping through the maintenance shafts.

He trusted his Master until the end.

We need more fun so I’ve got little headcanons for him:

He didn’t like tea until Master Tapal got him drinking it. He more so enjoyed the comfort it brought and the memories of his Master than the actual experience but he still liked experimenting with the different flavours. His favourite is one of Master Tapal’s blends from Lasan.

This is precisely why he doesn’t like tea now. It reminds him of too much, but he’ll drink it for Greez if the other wants him to. The comfort the Latero brings reminds Cal of something he used to have.

He kept a collection of trinkets with good echoes around his room. One of them is the holocron he keeps near his bed.

His blanket was a lifeday gift from the battalion, handmade.

He was still scared of the dark even one year into his apprenticeship. A mission gone wrong where he was stranded on an unsafe ship and had to use the dark to hide in quickly cured him of this though.

He still had a soft toy to sleep with, even just before order 66. He often hid it in a secret compartment in his room because he felt like he should be over that attachment, but later future Cal still wishes he had it to bring him comfort.

He particularly liked adding beads and strings he found on missions to his braid, decorating it not only with accomplishments but also echoes from jobs well done.

He was incredibly flexible and also incredibly energetic. It was tough to get him to sit still, let alone not to race off and start climbing everything he saw. Master Tapal had to teach him not to run off very quickly into their apprenticeship, but he never quite cured him of the latter habit.

Another habit Cal was never cured of was his curiosity, leading him to sneak around exploring places a lot and touching echoes he really shouldn’t have.

He really didn’t like needles or medbays. He would never go near either on his apprenticeship, but this aversion was quickly cured on the uncaring planet Bracca.

He actually had to be told by Master Tapal to stop giving everything he owned as gifts to everyone on board since his quarters were becoming quite bare. Cal did so anyways because he liked giving gifts and making others happy.

He let the clones paint his face in the battalion’s colours once and refused to wash it off for hours.

He had to get a rabies shot one time because he insisted on helping an animal that ended up biting him. He doesn’t regret it for a second though.

He made a little scrapbook of all the clones, what their Force signatures looked like and their names so that he could remember who was who even with the helmets on. He knew exactly who shot at him and who died by his Master’s hands after order 66.

Idk man.. this guy. This tiny little guy. He makes me very sad.

Psst!! HEY! If you want more of this kind of mushy stuff about Padawan Cal, maybe you should check out my fanfic… it’s literally the escapades of Cal and his clones except with a little Diathim twist..

[ospreyeamon]

the falls of the revanchist jedi

The narrative doesn’t directly examine why the Jedi who followed Revan and Malak fell. It is spoken of as a given – they followed Revan into war, so they followed Revan into darkness. That’s not how people work though. That’s not even how people under the influence of the Dark Side of the Force work. Spending twenty years as Palpatine’s thrall didn’t prevent Vader from throwing his Master into the reactor shaft to save his son. Revan can murder every NPC available to be murdered until reaching Rakata Prime only to pull a 180, redeem Bastila, and be feted as a hero of the Republic, Sith-eyes and all.

All but one of the surviving Revanchist Jedi who followed Revan and Malak into the Mandalorian Wars followed them again into the Jedi Civil War. Even the Exile, that lone dissenting actor, can say that they would have fought with their fellows against the Republic had their connection to the Force not been severed; that they were unable, not unwilling. Yet, the Exile can also say that they would not have followed Revan and Malak in attacking the Republic, that they went to war to defend the innocent. Many of the other Jedi who joined the war effort alongside them must have felt the same way, in the beginning.

Many of the soldiers of the Republic like Carth Onasi returned home after the Mandalorian Wars were over, even those like Saul Karath who would bow to Revan again. What then are the factors that led every surviving Revanchist Jedi, save the Exile, to follow Revan from the Mandalorian Wars into the Jedi Civil War?

1) The Mandalorian Wars changed the Jedi who fought in them. The Exile’s dialogue provides the different reasons why they might have left to fight in the war – to protect the innocent, to test their power, to defend the Republic, to win glory – reflecting varying motivations of Knights and Padawans recruited by Revan and Malak. However, despite the differences in the initial reasons for defying the Jedi Council to answer the Republic’s call, they all would have gone through similar uniting experiences during the war. Terrible experiences. Shared hardship often serves to reinforce group identity.

Older Jedi like Kavar and Arren Kae had fought wars before, but the initial expedition led by Revan and Malak was almost entirely composed of young Knights and older Padawans. Military morality, ethics in warfare, tends to be rather twisted from the perspective of modern western civilian morality. Your ability to prosecute the war and the safety of your soldiers takes priority over the lives of enemy, and sometimes even allied, civilians. Ruthless is more than a virtue, it’s a necessity. Collateral damage is an inevitability. For young relatively inexperienced Jedi, raised on ideals of valuing all life and always seeking non-violent resolutions, the transition to military command positions where they were not only required to kill, not only required to led troops to their death, but required to give orders which they knew would directly result in the deaths of civilians would have been distressing.

We know that the Exile once led troops directly into a minefield during the Battle of Dxun, but I think that barely scratched the surface. We aren’t given the full laundry list of the Mandalorians’ war crimes, but at the very least it includes the crime of aggression, murder of civilians, use of child soldiers, and conscription of captured civilians into the Neo-Crusaders and for forced labour. Given this disregard for the lives of civilians, I consider it likely that the Mandalorians also used hostages and headquartered themselves inside buildings like schools and hospitals. I suspect both sides used poison weapons, nuclear weapons, torture, and executed prisoners of war.

2) The Battle of Malachor V was a purge and a crucible of conversion. Kreia, HK-47, and the recording of Bastila Shan all say it; “a series of massacres that masked another war, a war of conversion”, “the intention was to destroy the Jedi, break their will, and make them loyal to Revan … Revan was "cleaning house" at Malachor V”, “to convert the last of the Jedi who fought beside [Revan] – and murder those who would not”. The Jedi in the radius of the Mass Shadow Generator would have included the Jedi Revan did not believe would agree with the plan to invade the Republic.

I think many of the Revanchist Jedi had already been falling by inches before Malachor. The Mandalorian Wars were brutal and one of the major symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is emotional dysregulation. Irritability, anxiety, depression, guilt, anger – the ongoing effects of trauma make a person more susceptible to inadvertently drawing on the Dark-Side of the Force. Using the Dark-Side of the Force was forbidden by the Code enforced by the Jedi Council, but the Revanchists had been pressured to compromise their ethics in other ways to effectively prosecute the war.

For any Jedi who had not already fallen, the detonation of the Mass Shadow Generator was a final blow they could not withstand. They all fell – into the Dark-Side, into death, away from the Force.

This was the conversion that Revan desired. The moral conversation – the acceptance of actions that violated their previous moral code, the previous moral code that would not have permitted making war on the Republic. The conversion in the Force – pushing Jedi to the Dark-Side ensured that they would not be accepted back into the Order by the Jedi Council even if they desired to return.

3) The Jedi Council’s decision to exile the Jedi who returned to face them was a gift to Revan and Malak. The Council’s judgement might have been rooted in their discomfort with what the Exile had become but the reason they publicly gave is that the Exile disobeyed the Council to follow Revan to war. That reason applied equally to every single other Revanchist. By exiling the one Revanchist to return the Jedi Council exiled them all, whether or not they intended to. They may not have, but by deciding to keep secret the true reasons behind their sentence of exile they ensured the other Revanchists could interpret their judgement no other way.

Telling the Revanchist Jedi they would never be welcome to return to the Jedi Order ensured that they would never go back. Onwards was the only path left to them.

4) Revan was extremely charismatic and competent. The Revanchist Jedi had already decided that Revan and Malak judgement was better than the Jedi Council’s when they chose to defy the Council’s orders to follow them to war. Revan, Malak and the Revanchists then won the war for the Republic. In fact, Revan even discovered the shadowy threat the which had been the Council’s justification for sitting out the war through engaging in it, while the Jedi Council remained ignorant.

The Republic government probably bungled the early stages of the Mandalorian Wars by not intervening sooner. The Mandalorians were committing more than enough war crimes for them to justify it, but they allowed Mandalorians to expand their territory, build their forces and industry, and entrench their advantage. When the Republic did enter the war, it wasn’t because the Republic leadership had made a strategic decision, or even a moral one; it was because some corrupt politicians organised bribes to fast-track Taris into the Republic because it was under threat and they wanted to protect their business holdings there. The Jedi Council was also tangled up in the culture of corruption; Lucien Draay was given a seat on the Council even though he’d been accused of planning and assisting the murder of four Padawans because of his powerful family connections.

The Old Republic was more an aristocratic republic than a democratic one. Alderaan, Onderon, the Empress Teta system – they were all monarchies during this period, not democracies. If aristocrats could hold power through right of blood and plutocrats through wealth, then why shouldn’t Revan lead the Galactic Republic by right of merit and conquest?

Revan was secretive, but at least some of the other Revanchist Sith knew about the shadowy threat – the True Sith Empire. If the Republic was going to need to fight another war against an even greater enemy, surely it would need better leadership. Leadership like Revan.

[obimaulartfire]

October 26th- "Seduction" for the @sithobiwanevent

Mini-fic connected to this piece under the Read More tag! I had so much fun with this prompt, hehehe

Maul walked down the neon-lit streets of Coruscant, out of the Jedi Temple. The mission he just finished had been hard, but successful.

His clone commander offered to take him out in celebration, but Maul turned him down. He wasn’t the social type; he preferred to do things on his own terms.

Besides, he felt…it, again.

“It” was a presence that had been following him like a shadow for the past few years.

It felt like fire and ice at once; cool, prickly fury mixed with a warm affection. At least, that was what the Force told him.

“It” never hurt him. In fact, it was often a comfort when he felt completely alone in the world, whether that was in the Temple, out in the street, or off-world. When he was sorrowful, overwhelmed, or angry, it was nearby like a cold pillow on a hot night. But it felt stronger than usual today, like it was about to smother him.

Therefore, he couldn’t risk anyone else getting in the way. Today was the day he would find the source.

He walked down the street, keeping his sixth sense open and his eyes over his shoulder. There were so many people here; any one of them could be the source of the Force presence. Frustrated, he grumbled to himself as he walked towards no destination in particular. But then, he remembered that the presence only made itself known when he was alone.

He chided himself. Was he really about to put himself in danger for the sake of his curiosity?

This is stupid. He was a Jedi. If anything came at him, he was more than certain that he could win in a fight.

While he thought, his feet took him down the back streets, towards a part of town that he knew would have no one in it at this time of night. He got there, found an open alleyway and walked in. And he waited.

He felt the presence, but couldn’t see anyone. Of course. He’d never seen the source of the presence, so it was unlikely that they would simply reveal themselves immediately.

He grit his teeth and gathered up his courage.

“Come out. I know you’re there.” he said, trying to hide the slight shake in his voice.

There was no answer. Until there was.

“You’re calling for me? What a surprise.” said an elegant, icy voice.

Maul spun around, and his hearts dropped in his chest. He recognized the face that appeared before him immediately.

Ten years ago on Naboo, his master was killed by none other than the man before him. He was older now, had grown out a beard and his hair, but otherwise looked exactly the same. His yellow eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, silhouette outlined by the multicolored lights around him. Maul didn’t know his name, but he did know him, and always would. It was impossible to forget the one who stole your loved ones.

Despite this, he radiated the exact same presence. That same Force signature he felt when he was alone in the Jedi Temple in the middle of the night. Now, instead of it being a background hum, it wrapped around his mind and threatened to crush him with its force.

Somehow, it was still comforting.

“You…” Maul started.

The man interrupted.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night? You could get hurt.” he said with an outpouring of protective affection, and walked closer.

Maul instinctively backed away, towards an alley.

“Why? But you- I killed you. I thought-”

His eyes darted to the man’s right arm and leg. They were advanced prosthetics now, but made almost no noise as he strode forward. Maul had cut those off. He remembered pushing this man down the reactor shaft, so why was he alive? Why was he here?

Maul made a soft grunt when he turned and his back hit the wall. The man came closer to him, and leaned over; their height difference becoming apparent.

“Your questions have easy answers.” he said, though Maul had asked no questions. It was like he knew what he was thinking.

He opened his prosthetic hand, and took Maul’s hand in it; a gesture of reverence.

Maul flinched at how cold the metal was, but did not pull away.

“The simple answer is that you killed me, and I came back.” he said, lacing his fingers with Maul’s. “I’ve been obsessed with you ever since you cut me down on Naboo. You’re the only person who has ever defeated me, undone me. I should hate you for it, but instead I find you… fascinating.”

Maul swallowed thickly, his hearts pounding in his chest. He’d never had anyone be interested in him before, not to this degree. It was intoxicating, and it drew him closer.

His mouth moved, looking for words to say. They came out jumbled and choppy.

“So all this time. When I was alone, and I was sad, and I felt a presence. That- that was you?” 

The man raised his prosthetic arm, and pinned Maul’s arm against the wall.

Without thinking, Maul wrapped his fingers around the metallic ones, to ground himself.

The man leaned closer, his warm breath brushing Maul’s lips.

“Does that disturb you, my dear?”

Maul stared up into glowing, yellow eyes. It was very strange. Though this whole situation should scare him, Maul found himself incredibly calmed, almost hypnotized by the man in front of him. He didn’t want him to go.

“No.” he replied, and meant it.

“I’m glad.”

Before he knew it, Maul was kissing him. He lost himself in the moment of finally coming face-to-face with the presence that, in some way, kept him sane for the past few years.

But, when the man pulled away, Maul looked at his face again and remembered who he was looking at. This was his master’s murderer. And yet despite himself, he couldn’t pull away.

“This… this is wrong.” he said, his sense finally coming back to him.

He shouldn’t feel safe around this man. He should run. He should pull out his lightsaber and finish the job he started years ago. So why? Why didn’t he pull away?

“Is it, now?” he replied, conversationally.

“Of course it is. You killed my master. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be doing this.” he said.

I shouldn’t want this. He thought.

“And yet, here you are.” he said, with a light chuckle. His breath tickled, and his beard brushed against his cheek.

Maul found himself kissing him again. One hand was pinned to the wall, but the other grabbed at the bow on his back, pushing him closer. Force, what was wrong with him?

The kiss ended too soon. His master’s murderer pushed away from him, ever so gently, and looked into his eyes.

“Come away with me, Maul. I could teach you so much.”

Maul swallowed and nodded his head.

At this point, it wasn’t even a question.

He took his hand, and pushed down his own self-loathing for saying ‘yes.’

[the-far-bright-center]

On loving Anakin

“....the answer [to Anakin’s appeal] varies greatly depending on any one perceptive outlook, but has a similar core in each case of us wishing we could help change the outcome, even though we know we can’t, and of wanting to understand his actions and his pain, wanting to see his positive choices and his goodness validated, wanting to see him learn healthy strategies, wanting to see his love flourish, wanting to see him freed from the shackles he drags with him, from childhood to Jedi to Vader. The crush of the standards of society and expectation on him may speak to many. He is never liberated (until his final moments of free breath). His choices are either taken or horrifically tainted. His voice is drowned out by those more powerful around him. His talents and intelligence go largely unrecognized. His good, expansive heart is treated like a hindrance. The depth of his empathy and love is underestimated—and that, in the end, is important, because that underestimation, ending with Palpatine, becomes the Dark Side’s ultimate downfall and undoing. Vader may literally pick up an electric Palpatine and throw him down a reactor shaft, but that physical action is the final answer to a much more complete emotional and spiritual journey. He throws him down and the chains go with the slave master, and for the first time, certainly since before he lost Padme, his heart is unfettered, his love is reciprocated, and he is offered a true voice, a moment of his true self, a sliver of forgiveness, before being embraced again by the transcendence of the light. It is his act of rebellion, it is his own personal revolution, his final blow in the war. The entirety of the arc hinges upon him in that moment, Luke has been valorous and immeasurably valuable, but he’s done all he can do—the final choice is Anakin’s (and it’s such an interesting case because where else have we ever been able to fear and appreciate a villain, and then totally transform and re-contextualize him?). He is in that moment, indeed, the Chosen One.

All these facets are fascinating to watch unfold if you’re willing to be open-minded and heartfelt and sympathetic to the journey, if you’re willing to dig into the complex depth of his pathos.

[Anakin's] open emotions are an exquisite part of him, and it’s the Jedi who are wrong for trying to stamp that out, when his emotional abilities are part of what define him in his inherent goodness and his intellect and strength. He has an undying heart. For he and Luke both to stand as male heroes who represent such depth of feeling is really special, and vital to the story. Anakin is the most acutely human character in many respects, in his foibles and his inner strengths, in his losses and his longings and his ultimate return to his true self—that’s why we feel for him, that’s why we ache and fear for him, that’s why we rejoice for him in the end.”

—from @saferincages (you might say we are encouraged to love)

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Trust Only in the Force

*****JEDI FALLEN ORDER SPOILERS AHEAD*****

Cal doesn’t know what Order 66 is. He’s never heard of it. Won’t even hear the name for at least a few years.

But what he does know? He’s trapped on an escape pod with the cooling body of Jedi Master Jaro Tapal. The closest thing Cal ever had to a father.

---

“There’s an override just ahead.” Master Tapal’s voice is steady over their Force bond. “You must activate it if we’re to escape.”

Cal’s heart, already thudding so loudly that he can’t hear himself speak, slams into his vocal cords. Because Master Tapal didn’t say “we must activate it.” He said “you must activate it.” And Cal… Cal can barely see straight. He’s got no idea what’s going on. One moment, he’s in training and the next…

The next, he’s deflecting blaster fire from his friends. From Zeph and Todd and Ben.

“Y-Yes, Master.” Cal climbs up the shaft, squinting against the dingy light.

“We have Tapal pinned in the airlock,” a clone trooper - Gar? - says over his comm. “Send backup.”

Cal drops back onto the ground, rushing to the airlock. His master told him not to get distracted - to get to the override above all else - but he can’t help it. If all of the clones are in on… on whatever this is, then Master Tapal will need his help.

“Jaro Tapal is on the other side of that door?” another clone asks.

“Yeah,” Gar confirms. “But he won’t be getting through. It’ll take him far too long to cut through these doors with that lightsaber.” And he says it with such confidence, with such ill-intent and smug hatred, that Cal feels his stomach drop to his feet. This morning, Gar wished him good luck in his training session. They were friends. Why would Gar do this? How could he do this?

“We’ll just wait until he’s surrounded,” the second clone agrees, “then move in for the kill.”

Cal wants to vomit.

When Master Tapal enters the airlock, he immediately deflects the blaster bolts, spinning his lightsaber and taking out every clone trooper in the process. It’s easy and near-instantaneous. Cal doesn’t even have time to run in and help.

“Move, padawan!” Master Tapal calls over their bond. “We have to leave now!”

Cal tries not to panic. His master appears to be the epitome of calm, but Cal knows him well enough to see the careful walls that he’s placed in front of his true emotions. Cal doesn’t know how terrified his master is, but the fact that there are walls at all suggests that he’s not as unaffected as he comes off.

Blood pounding in his ears, Cal rushes through the next two doors, only to come face-to-face with the business end of a clone’s blaster.

Kriff. He’s going to die here, isn’t he?

But Master Tapal is a breath away. He headbutts the trooper, and his bright blue saber arcs overhead, taking out the clone hiding in the back. “The door controls!” he barks, spinning his lightsaber as an army of clones descend upon the pair. “Hurry!”

Cal is already at the controls, desperately typing in the override code. But panic makes his mind blank and his fingers shaky. He misremembers the code the first time. He presses the wrong button the second time. The third attempt is successful, but as Cal turns to alert Master Tapal of this, his master is hit one, two times. He stumbles, losing focus and lightsaber disengaging. Bolts three and four slam into his chest. Bolt five finds his stomach. Bolt six hits his knee.

“Master!” Cal shrieks.

But Master Tapal is crumpled in front of the open escape pod, no longer watching as a wall of clone troopers fire at him.

This is it. Cal can feel the tension in the Force.

They’re both dead.

The padawan cowers as he hears an ear-shattering scream through the Force. A collective upset. Jedi begging for relief. For healing. For an end. It’s too much.

And then there’s a loud clatter as armor slams against the ceiling. Master Tapal has recovered enough to slam a few clones into the ceiling. As Cal looks up, his master stumbles back into the escape pod, bolts seven and eight leaving dark burns in his chest.

“NO!” Cal screams, rushing in front of his master. The clones are his friends - were his friends - but he can’t watch this. He can’t let them hurt Master Tapal.

The clones don’t seem to recall Cal’s friendship. That, or they simply don’t care. They continue to shoot, and, weaponless, Cal feels a bolt burn across his cheek and into his hand. He reels back, crying out, but the pain brings him clarity. He taps into the Force with a desperate, unfettered fervor.

For a moment, the clones are frozen, bolts moving in slow motion.

Cal hurries into the escape pod, slams the door shut, and smashes the eject button over and over and over.

He really only needed to press it once. The pod jerks almost instantly, shooting out for Bracca.

For a long moment, Cal stands in front of the control panel, trying to process that the danger is gone. That the doors won’t open to reveal a whole platoon of his friends, all intent on killing him.

And then, once he’s realized where he is and what’s going on, Cal rushes to his master’s side, falling to his knees.

There are burns everywhere. Dark, round spots dotting Master Tapal’s armor. Melted metal and burnt flesh. Cal tries to size up the situation. Can he heal this? He’s never been very good at healing, but he has to try. Or maybe there’s some bacta on the pod? His hands hover over his master’s broken body, trying to figure out what to do first.

“Cal,” Master Tapal gasps, his hand finding his padawan’s shoulder. “Cal. I overloaded the ship’s reactors. The explosion will mask our escape.” His breath hitches, watching Cal with… concern? Pity? Hope? “This… war is not is not over, my padawan. Hold the line. Wait for the Jedi Council’s signal.” He coughs, death rattling in his lungs. Then he presses his lightsaber into Cal’s hand. “Remember, trust… only… in the Force…”

“Yes, Master,” Cal promises, voice smaller than ever.

Master Tapal’s eyes go vacant, his strong grip on Cal’s shoulder loosening and dropping to the floor.

Cal stares at the lightsaber in his hand. At his master’s lightsaber. And though the Jedi Code discourages attachment, Cal feels his heart break, eyes leaking hot, grief-ridden tears.

There’s a loud boom. The pod swerves, knocking Cal to the floor with a grunt. He gets up almost instantly, circuits around him sparking dangerously. He steps over his… his master… clutching the lightsaber tightly.

The Force screams at him, memories from the hilt assaulting his mind.

“- congratulations, Youngling. This is your lightsaber now.”

“I will defend this Order, no matter the cost. I don’t expect you to understand-”

“Cal. Trust only in the Force.”

The lightsaber is so full of broken memories, rife with so many forgotten Force echoes, so worn down with grief, that Cal can’t take it anymore. He can’t drop the lightsaber - won’t allow himself to drop the lightsaber - but he can’t remain calm anymore.

Instead, Cal curls up beside his master, ignores the dangerously-shaky escape pod, and screams.

---

Cal has to bury his master. There is no time for a proper Jedi funeral. No time for flames or a pyre. If Cal is to carry on his master’s legacy - to hold the line and wait for the Jedi Council’s signal - then he can’t be caught. And if he can’t be caught, then he needs to dispose of the… of the evidence.

Cal removes his padawan robes, leaving behind only the nondescript undershirt and pants. Even his boots are a dead giveaway for a Jedi, so he rips them off. Then, with shaking hands, Cal activates his master’s lightsaber and severs his padawan braid.

(This is not how he expected it to go. He expected Master Tapal to remove it after his Trials. He expected his master to be beaming with pride. His friends to be cheering him on. But he never expected… this.)

Cal places the braid beside his robes and boots. Then he holds the glowing blue blade close to the pile, watching as smoke begins to billow off of the robes before the entire stack is charred and flaming.

Then Cal deactivates the lightsaber and hides it in his belt under his shirt. It’s the only thing he intends on keeping. Master Tapal gave it to him. Master Tapal wanted Cal to keep it. So Cal will honor his wishes.

Once the fire has died down, Cal kicks the ashes away. They scatter across the junkyard platform and blow away in Bracca’s harsh atmosphere. Then Cal approaches the escape pod. He doesn’t have much time now. Placing one hand on Master Tapal’s forehead, Cal says goodbye, trying to sense his master’s spirit in the Force. He’s sure it’s there, but Cal is starting to go numb. He can’t feel much of anything.

“Thank you, Master,” he says one final time. Then he exits the pod, closes the doors, and Force pushes the escape pod off the platform, watching as the craft spins and tumbles before it disappears into the void far, far below.

For a long time, Cal says and does nothing more. He simply stands there. Stares out into space. Watches the remains of the Albedo Brave - Master Tapal’s command ship - drift away.

And all the while, Cal hears the begging and crying and desperation in the Force. The loss and betrayal and fear of the Jedi. The uncertainty of the galaxy’s fate.

---

“Hey, did you see the coolant lines?”

“What?” Prauf calls, fingers flying as he recalibrates the gyrostabilizers. “That they’re holier than a SoroSuub holoproj?”

“Yeah,” Morq replies. “I was gonna say ‘leaky,’ but same difference, I guess.”

“I’ll grab replacements,” Prauf offers. “The stabilizers need new bearings anyways.”

“That’s be great. Mind getting me a moof juice while you’re at it?”

“I’m not your butler, Morq,” Prauf replies, a smile lighting his face. “Buy your own drinks.” He eases himself down his rope until his feet touch the platform below. He’s unclipping his harness when something catches his eye.

“Hey!” he calls up to Morq. “You see that?” He points three platforms below his own.

“Who is that?” Morq yells back.

“I’m gonna find out!”

“Be careful!”

Prauf isn’t as careful as he should be, hurrying down the platforms until he finds the small figure staring out at a blown-up Star Destroyer. “Hey,” he calls out. “You okay?”

The figure doesn’t move. Just stands there and watches the sky burn.

“Hey,” Prauf repeats, approaching the edge. He places a careful hand on the figure’s shoulder, and the figure jumps back, nearly falling off the edge himself.

“Whoa!” Prauf grabs the figure’s arm to keep him grounded. And that’s when he sees the guy’s face.

It’s a human child with a red face and wet eyes. His clothes are plain but grimy, and a dark blaster burn is carved into his cheek.

“Hey, kiddo,” Prauf says gently, crouching so they’re at eye level. “What happened?”

The boy blinks, eyes full of tears. He looks away, jaw tight, but he doesn’t push Prauf away.

“Can I help?” Prauf asks, wanting nothing more than to hug the boy but knowing that that might only make things worse. He taps his own cheek. “That looks like a nasty burn.”

“Yeah,” the boy agrees, staring at the ground. He’s shaking, and Prauf realizes that the kid is barefoot.

“I don’t have any bacta,” Prauf says apologetically, “but we should get that cleaned up.”

The boy doesn’t reply. Just nods his head in agreement.

Prauf sits down and digs through his bag, searching for his canteen and medkit. His supplies are lacking, but it’s better than leaving the kid alone on the platform.

“My name’s Prauf,” he offers. “What about you?”

The boy sits on the platform, fussing with a similarly-concerning blaster burn on his hand. He still refuses to look at Prauf. “... Cal.”

“Okay, Cal. Let’s get those burns looked at, huh?” Prauf shifts closer, pouring water over each burn and then over some gauze. “What are you doing out here?”

Cal shifts awkwardly. Parts his lips to speak. Closes them again.

“Got any parents?” Prauf ventures, wrapping Cal’s hand with the gauze. “Siblings?”

For a moment, Cal does nothing. And then, ever-so-slowly, he shakes his head. “They… They killed my… my, uh… father. He was protecting me, and they shot him, and I don’t… I don’t know why.”

Prauf frowns, slinging his bag back over his shoulder. “Who killed him?”

But Cal seems to dislike that question. He shuts his mouth and shakes his head. He still won’t look Prauf in the eyes.

“Okay. That’s okay,” Prauf soothes. “We can worry about it later. Let’s just get you inside, alright?”

Cal nods, following as Prauf leads him back to his apartment. Prauf doesn’t know what’s up with this kid - where he came from, how he got here, what his deal is - but he feels responsible for the little guy.

So, for as long as it takes, Prauf will keep him safe. It’s the responsible thing to do.

“Um… Prauf?” Cal’s voice is small. Meek.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

[queenofdragons12]

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀! | obi-wan x reader

You truly cannot fathom the intricacies of how he managed to track you down, but one thing is crystal clear in your mind – he is irrevocably yours, and you are his.

The profound connection you share is unshakeable, a bond that you are fiercely determined never to relinquish, especially not to the clutches of that detested Jedi Order.

At this very moment, you are enveloping him within you, descending onto him as if gravity itself were pulling you closer. The walls of your vagina are tightly clutching the tip of his bare, leaking phallus, a testament to the passionate desire that flows through both of your beings.

He is nestled in the warm embrace of your abode, a cozy sanctuary that you've chosen for its exclusivity. Mustafar, a fiery planet of scorching temperatures and volcanic landscapes, is the ideal retreat for your unique species, a place where the blazing heat is the only environment that can sustain your existence.

It's a world that others dare not tread frequently, leaving you both with a sense of undisturbed privacy and intimacy. The luxurious plushness of the sofa beneath you enhances the sensation of his body against yours, his hardened member poised to penetrate deeper as he reclines, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

The intensity of your union is palpable, a dance of passion that resonates through the very air around you. His eyes are closed, savoring the sensation of your intimate embrace, as the anticipation builds to an exquisite crescendo. The force of your species' survival instincts and the undeniable heat between you two has led you to this secret haven, ensuring that your love can flourish uninhibited by the prying eyes of the galaxy.

With a gentle yet firm demeanor, he whispers, "Just like that, darling," as his eyes flutter closed, lost in the intensity of the moment. A soft chuckle escapes your lips at his unabashed display of vulnerability, and you feel a surge of power as you decide to push him further. Leaning down, you align your body with his, your lithe frame poised to deliver a series of exquisite thrusts. Your long, auburn tongue, a fiery snake of passion, slithers past the plush purple curve of his lips, taunting him as it glides along the contours of his mouth. He eagerly attempts to kiss you, but your masterful maneuvering leaves him only able to part his lips slightly, desperately seeking the warmth of your own.

You can feel the desperation in his breath as it hitches, and his pleas for relief become more fervent. "Please," he whispers, his voice thick with longing and the sweet agony of being so close to climax, "please, I beg of you." The sound of his need fills the room, a symphony of desire that you revel in, knowing you hold the key to his release.

With a smirk, you lean closer, your voice a low, amused purr as you ask, "And do Jedi truly beg?" His body tenses beneath you, the question a delightful tease that sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to move against him, the rhythm of your hips driving him closer to the edge with every passing second. The warm, velvety walls of your sex clench tightly around his shaft, as if echoing the question you've posed, challenging him to prove his worthiness of such a divine gift.

His breath comes in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving with the effort to maintain control. "It seems," you murmur, your voice a seductive purr in his ear, "that you have forgotten your place, my dear." You increase the pressure, the friction between your bodies building like the crescendo of a symphony, pushing him to the brink of ecstasy. "But," you continue, "perhaps you are not as noble as you claim."

You feel his body tighten, his cock pulsing within you as he fights the urge to spill his seed, to give in to the pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him. "Beg," you command, your voice a siren's song, low and seductive. "Beg a queen for the allowance to cum, my little boy."

The words hang in the air, a heady challenge that he cannot resist. With a groan, he surrenders, his voice a broken whisper. "I beg of you, my queen," he gasps, his eyes squeezed shut in submission. "Allow me to cum, please."

A smug smile graces your lips as you consider his plea, the power dynamic between you two a thrilling dance of dominance and submission. For a moment, you hold him there, suspended in the exquisite agony of anticipation, before finally granting his request with a single, sultry word. "You may."

And with that, his body arches, a silent scream of release echoing through the room as he succumbs to the pleasure that you have so graciously allowed him. His eyes fly open, meeting yours, and in that instant, you see the pure, unbridled ecstasy that only true power can bestow. The connection between you is electric, a current of desire that flows unimpeded as he empties himself into you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his climax.

As the tension slowly ebbs away, you lean down to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a gesture that is both tender and possessive. "Good boy," you murmur, the words a gentle praise that fills his soul with warmth. You pull back slightly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you watch the euphoria wash over his features, knowing that you are the one who has brought him to such heights of pleasure. And in that moment, you both revel in the delicious dance of power and passion that you have woven together.

[phoenixkaptain]

The scene of Anakin turning back to the Light and saving Luke is such a beautiful scene in so many ways, but especially from a character standpoint.

If you look at Darth Vader just in the movies, he doesn’t do things without a plan. He has a step two. Even if his step two is immensely dumb, he always seems to at least have some form of an idea where he wants to end up; he has a point B he’s trying to reach.

Part of what makes Vader a terrifying villain is that he always seems to anticipate what his opponent will do. He seems to know what they’ll do before they even think about what they’ll do. Very rarely is Darth Vader ever taken by surprise. Darth Vader is the character who proves how scary the Force can be. While Palpatine uses his Force lightning and can predict what his opponents will do, he never quite reaches the level Anakin is on, he never reaches that peak of knowing the next five steps his opponent is going to take, even as those next five steps change.

Palpatine doesn’t see Vader turning on him coming. Palpatine is not a Force user who can see the future, he uses the predictions Darth Plagueis made and he sticks to the outline provided by his former Master. He does everything he does and believes everything will be fine and has complete confidence in himself because Plagueis was just that good at predicting the future.

Darth Vader literally changes the future. He makes those predictions false. Him throwing Palpatine down a reactor shaft wasn’t in the books, him choosing his son wasn’t an option, the idea that a Sith lord as powerful as Darth Vader could turn back from the Dark Side is believed by the Jedi and Sith alike to be impossible. Darth Vader himself doesn’t even believe that he can turn back from the Dark Side. The only character who ever believes that Darth Vader can come back is Luke.

Darth Vader is fifteen steps ahead of his opponents. It’s very rare that he ever gets surprised. He always has a plan.

But when he saves Luke, he isn’t any of that. He leaps in without a plan, without any ideas of where he’s goung. He doesn’t know what will happen except that he’ll probably die. He doesn’t have a way out of this. This is the first time Anakin Skywalker ever does anything without already having a way out or immediately being able to come up with a way out.

Anakin was hotheaded and impulsive, yes, but Anakin from his introduction always has a plan B. And when he doesn’t have a plan B, he makes one. He is by far the most competent character in Star Wars, just from his ability to get himself and others out of trouble.

In the moment of turning back from the Dark, Anakin is listening to the Force. He’s listening to the Force as it tells him to save someone. The universal call to the Jedi, the inexplicable push that all Jedi feel and what ultimately led to the majority of Jedi dying, just because they couldn’t not listen when the Force told them to help. Anakin finally listens to it, finally answers it, he finally acts like a Jedi.

There’s no step two. There’s no way out. Doing this will end in his death. Darth Vader is already injured, and the only one who has the resources to put him back together is Sidious. To save Luke, Vader has to step into the lightning, which he knows all to well will ruin his suit. Choosing to save Luke is tantamount to choosing to die.

And he does it. He hesitates, but ultimately, he sacrifices himself for someone else. He goes in knowing that this won’t end with him being able to get out. He has no way out. There’s no plan B. His suit has gone from keeping him alive to being part of the reason he’s dying. He takes off his helmet accepting that he’ll die and being happy to die because he’s finally at peace, he finally feels the warmth of the Force, he finally sees his son with his own eyes, his son is finally looking at him with nothing but trust and worry for his wellbeing, he’s right where he wants to be.

He went from wanting to posess Luke to just being happy that Luke is there with him. That Luke is the one by his side when he dies, that he’s dying on the same side as Luke — Anakin is fine with this. He’s ready to die. He’s accepted it. He’s just happy that the last thing he’ll see is the product of his and Padme’s love for each other.

The scenes of Anakin in Return of the Jedi are beautiful. The title “Return of the Jedi” is so great for this movie, it’s perfect, okay, you don’t understand. It has so many meanings!! The Jedi returning could be referring to Luke, the main Jedi we follow, returning to the screen, or to Tatooine. It could be referring to the Jedi Order, since Luke takes on Yoda’s request to share his knowledge with others and, with Sidious dead, the Jedi Order has functionally returned, even if it is only one member strong. It could refer to Yoda returning, it could refer to Obi-Wan returning.

Or, Return of the Jedi could be referring to Anakin. Anakin Skywalker, the son of the Force. Anakin Skywalker, the only character powerful enough to change the future itself, the only Sith Lord powerful enough to stop being a Sith Lord. Anakin Skywalker, who has always done impossible things, who has always performed impossible feats, who is himself impossible. And he’s back. He’s returned. The Jedi returned.

[sonofthedunes]

…any thoughts on dilf Luke getting a blowjob? 🫣

i’m sure i can scrounge some up for you, anon!

i’ve always liked the idea of waking a partner early in the morning with some gentle loving-that’s what you do here for luke. perhaps he showed you a good time the previous night and you’re returning the favor; perhaps he’s been especially tired or irritable lately and you want to lighten his mood. in any case, not long after you surface from dreams and blink the sun out of your eyes, you realize you’re still in the position you fell asleep in: head cushioned on luke’s chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing, your hands curled under your chin. his heartbeat thrums against your cheek for a moment till you raise your face to his. a pang strikes you at the peace in those features, peace that is rarely if ever there when he’s awake. where does his mind lead him in the night, you wonder…to the ruined jedi temple? to some victory of the rebellion? even further, to his youth on tatooine? only luke could say, and you doubt he’d tell you. still, you gaze fondly on him as he slumbers. he’s grown dear to you, this strange old hermit. there must be some small way you could show your appreciation.

and in that moment, you shift your leg and it bumps your thigh. dormant, but you’ve learned how to wake it. what if you did now? the idea is appealing, you’ve certainly given him pleasure with your mouth before, but every other time he’s been alert and directing the action. he seems to dislike surprises (your arrival on ahch-to initially proved that), but…maybe, just maybe, he’d enjoy this one. the dampness gathering between your legs indicates you’re in favor. the morning is bright and clear. the hell with it.

laying a soft kiss on his sternum, you move slowly and quietly to wriggle under the blanket. you’re both still naked from yesterday’s activities, so there’s no trousers to unfasten or underwear to shove down. he remains dozing as you position yourself beside his legs, the better to brush a finger over his soft cock. your mouth waters at the thought of taking it inside, delicately sucking, feeling it swell against your tongue, growing harder with every pull of your lips. “what a pretty cock you have, master,” you catch yourself thinking. and it truly is, a bit bigger and girthier than average, but such a lovely pink color and the perfect size for you. reaching for it again, you loosely grip the base and lean over; bestowing a kiss this time on the head, you smile at the first faint twitch. no change in his breathing yet, no stirring of his limbs, but oh, it will come. licking your lips, you part them and inhale as he enters your mouth, your tongue lapping at the slit.

stars, he’s incredible. you’ve never savored the taste of any other lover like this, nor the veins marbling the shaft. it’s almost a pity that you needs must release it in order to breathe. dribbling a string of saliva onto the rod, you pump your hand two or three times to coat the velvet skin and resume your task. in and out, forth and back, the wet suction tugs at him as you draw his arousal from its depths. the beast is stimulated, blood rushing to your beckon call. you almost moan as you feel him begin to fill your mouth. so warm, so perfect. one hand remains gripping its prize, the other splays on his belly, scratching at the trail of grey hair leading to all the excitement. you normally close your eyes when you blow him, but this time you want to see it-the exact second when his dreams are disturbed and he groggily wakes to this worship. for shouldn’t you, as the padawan, grant proper respect to your master at all times? even if your ideas don’t quite mesh with the jedi of old…

the signs are subtle at first: a slight spasm of the leg, a hitch in the rhythm of his breathing. most would assume these were the result of a particularly vivid dream. but the stiffer his cock grows, the more it becomes apparent that he detects your wake-up call. no, more than that. his desire is rising like the tide on the shoreline, and you’re both riding it out for the long haul.

above your head and the woven blanket covering it, you hear a groan, drawn out and languorous. at the same time, his flesh hand flexes and searches blindly for the source of this satisfaction. it touches your upper back first, then wanders into your loose hair and weaves its fingers through. not to prevent you from leaving, or in preparation to shove your head down and choke you-merely to show that he knows what you’re doing for him, and he’s reveling in it.

he’s almost fully erect now, more than you can easily fit in your mouth, so you compensate by licking rough stripes from root to tip in between sucking. the first time you let go of the purpling head with an audible pop, he tenses with a hiss. and the true reward: those little clear drops leaking onto your waiting fingers, slurped onto your grateful tongue, smeared across your lips like cosmetics. it’s sticky, salty goodness that makes your clit tingle and your nipples pebble against the pallet. you dare to hope that, if you please him well enough, luke will sate your own increasing arousal.

you long ago stopped feeling insulted that he doesn’t lavish praise on you in bed. it simply isn’t his way (though he’s hinted that it was in the past). still, his contentment shows in his erratic breaths, his fingers massaging your scalp…and the occasional exclamation you drag from him. “fuck,” he whisper-moans, voice rough from sleep. “fuck, that’s good.” that short sentence means more to you than full-on cursing and writhing from any other man. he’s holding back, he wants to plunge his length down your throat and fuck your mouth, but he’s allowing you to set your own pace and work him as you see fit. if you really wished to tease him, make his balls ache and erection weep, you might edge him once or twice to make his climax even more intense…but this morning you simply don’t possess the patience. you want him to come, and soon. a bit selfishly, you want to wallow in the knowledge that it was you who unraveled him, the great jedi master. who helped him, even for a handful of seconds, to forget his troubles.

your tongue caresses him plushly, lips pursed over the steadily dripping slit. the large hand that rests in your hair tightens with your movements, tugging occasionally when you give an especially hard suck. he’s close-you can sense it in the force (are you allowed to use the force like this? probably not), but also in the tightness of his balls when you touch them, in his ragged gasping and thighs clenching much like your own. and at last, you decide to speak.

“please master,” you plead, a string of spit connecting you to his prick, “let me make you come. i want to swallow every drop.”

a strained huff from above you. ever closer he creeps. “you feel so good in my mouth, master,” you hum, licking a prominent vein. “almost as good as you feel in my pussy.” just for fun, you scrape your fingernails along his abdomen and he jumps slightly. “i love being able to serve you like this…to please you. only you.”

he grunts in response, those same muscles you just scratched taut. nearly there now-he’s dancing on the precipice. he just needs a push, and you’ll happily provide it. “master,” you purr, “come in my mouth, stars, i want it. i want to be worthy of you and your beautiful cock.” you kiss his hard-on and it kicks with another spurt of liquid. like a flash it’s licked clean and he moans. “give it to me. please.”

and give he does. he shudders and you barely have time to fit your mouth over him before he gives a yank on your hair and great ropes of cum are flooding your cheeks, spilling down your throat. with every one a choked groan escapes him and his whole body jerks, fully caught in the tidal wave of orgasm. you don’t quite fulfill your earlier promise: some of the precious pearly elixir creeps down your chin and from the sides of your mouth, dropping back onto the man who gave it to you. you can’t help but gag and choke a little, but you swallow as much as you can. the salt is all you can taste. panting, you slide off his body and wipe your mouth, watching his cock soften, its purpose complete. squeezing your eyes tight to recalibrate yourself, your ears catch luke’s own efforts to regulate his breathing. the grip on your hair is released. the spell dissipates. time to start the rest of your day, you suppose.

suddenly the pallet rustles and the blanket is peeled back, and you’re staring into your master’s face. he regards you sternly, but he’s flushed from his hairline to his collarbone, and a light sheen of sweat dews his skin. immediately you scramble to your knees. “i-…good morning, master,” you bow your head briefly. “i apologize for being so…forward. i failed to control myself. i accept whatever punishment you decide.”

luke squares his jaw and knits his brow. amazing how he exudes such power and dignity, even totally nude and spent. he considers his words before he answers. “your apology is accepted,” he says. “but you must learn to manage your feelings.”

“yes, master.”

“i know it’s difficult. i struggle with it too. but that’s no reason to give in to them.” he rises from the bed and begins hunting for his discarded clothes. “now go wash and dress. we have a lot of work to do.”

you nod, chastised. “yes, master,” you repeat, beginning a similar process on your end-only to halt when he adds, almost as an afterthought:

“of course, when i was taught to control my emotions, that wasn’t included. i think…i think in certain situations we can bend the rules a bit.” you can’t see his face, but you just know the ghost of a smile is playing at his lips. “do we agree?”

a sigh of relief drifts from you. you’re finding that he’s full of surprises. “we do, master,” you covertly grin as you snatch up your tunic from the floor. “we definitely do.”