#and neither did kanan and hera

[stark-illerbase]

MY FACEBOOK DID A THING HAHA

[dotthings]

Here's the thing.

Nothing in Ahsoka contradicts canon concerning how The Force works. Neither did the sequel trilogy. Or, for that matter, the prequel trilogy.

Some quotes or observations under the cut.

While the contents of this interview from the book The Making of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi by Jonathan W. Rinzler could be considered somewhat apocryphal, given George Lucas laid out some ideas he didn’t stay with (such as Yoda being unable to fight, only teach), there are other things that are consistent with what he did in the prequels and TCW. George Lucas embraced the idea that The Force was trainable. He compared it to Yoga. There's nothing in Star Wars canon to indicate that George's ideas on that can't be the case.

Kasdan: The Force was available to anyone who could hook into it? Lucas: Yes, everybody can do it. Kasdan: Not just the Jedi? Lucas: It’s just the Jedi who take the time to do it. Marquand: They use it as a technique. Lucas: Like yoga. If you want to take the time to do it, you can do it; but the ones that really want to do it are the ones who are into that kind of thing. Also like karate. Also another misconception is that Yoda teaches Jedi, but he is like a guru; he doesn’t go out and fight anybody.

[x]

Midi-chlorians are in all living things, like The Force. Some individuals have higher midi-chlorian counts than others. But everyone has them.

The Phantom Menace:

ANAKIN : Master, sir...I've been wondering...what are midi-chlorians? QUI-GON : Midi-chlorians are a microcopic lifeform that reside within all living cells and communicates with the Force. ANAKIN : They live inside of me? QUI-GON : In your cells. We are symbionts with the midi-chlorians. ANAKIN : Symbionts? QUI-GON : Life forms living together for mutual advantage. Without the midi-chlorians, life could not exist, and we would have no knowledge of the Force. They continually speak to you, telling you the will of the Force. ANAKIN : They do?? QUI-GON : When you learn to quiet your mind, you will hear them speaking to you. ANAKIN : I don't understand. QUI-GON : With time and training, Annie...you will.

*

QUI-GON : With your permission, my Master. I have encountered a vergence in the Force. YODA : A vergence, you say? MACE WINDU : Located around a person? QUI-GON : A boy... his cells have the highest concentration of midi-chlorians I have seen in a life form. It is possible he was conceived by the midi-chlorians. MACE WINDU : You're referring to the prophesy of the one who will bring balance to the Force...you believe it's this boy?? QUI-GON : I don't pressume... YODA : But you do! Rrevealed your opinion is. QUI-GON : I request the boy be tested.

YODA : ...Correct you were, Qui-Gon. MACE WINDU : His cells contain a high concentration of midi-chlorians. KI-ADI : The Force is strong with him. QUI-GON : He's to be trained, then.

And let's go back to the very beginning.

From A New Hope:

LUKE: The Force? BEN: Well, the Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.

This doesn’t mean everyone is equally strong in the force.

Another point--Chirrut Imwe exists. There are, canonically, precedent on different ways to access The Force. Some can listen to it. Some can listen and manipulate it. Chirrut can hear The Force, he doesn’t have the full gamut of Jedi powers or tk. I am one with The Force, and The Force is with me.

The current situation wrt Sabine and The Force was already established Star Wars: Rebels, and what Kanan said aligns with Ahsoka's approach.

From Star Wars: Rebels: Trials of the Darksaber:

Hera: Were you careful with Ezra? I don't remember him fighting with a stick. Kanan: Well, maybe I'm trying to do things differently this time. Hera: Or maybe because she doesn't have the Force, you don't believe she can do this? Kanan: No. The Force resides in all living things. But you have to be open to it. Sabine is blocked. Her mind is conflicted. She's so expressive and yet so tightly wound. She's so… Hera: Mandalorian. Kanan: Very.

This doesn’t mean Sabine’s force abilities will be as strong as other Jedi we’ve seen. It also doesn't mean she has to move the mug for it to be worth it to train her. Or that she will move the mug.

But Ahsoka's concept is not actually against canon. It's not “ruining the franchise.” It’s not destroying the idea that there are some individuals who are more strong in The Force, unique in their abilities. Sabine will either be able to move the mug with The Force, or not, but if she does move the mug, it's not contradicting canon or taking away from established Jedi. It just means she unlocked something in herself. Something she has kept closed off.

She can also become more attuned to the force, and never be able to use tk and move that mug.

Also, it's neither anti-Jedi nor Anakin apologism to question the Jedi order. George Lucas did a whole movie trilogy and a tv series that highlighted those flaws.

People are using Huyang as proof Ahsoka is completely in the wrong...Huyang's a droid programmed to repeat Jedi dogma. He's essentially a sacred text.

He's not going to be capable of exploration and asking questions and learning new things, or new ways to look at established dogma.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a less-than-easy mission, you can't help but feel like a deadweight among the strong crew you'd joined. kanan is sent to solve your mood, offering words of comfort.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ghost crew x gn!reader, kanan x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: self doubt, mention of wounds, requested by @ohnonixll

The hum and vibrations of the Ghost buzzed across your body, the cold durasteel floor pressing into your back as you stared up at the cargo’s ceiling. Not much had changed in the spiderwebs spinning in the uppermost corners; you would know. You’d been staring up at ‘em for well over an hour.

The skid of someone sliding down the ladder and the thunk of their boots hitting the floor jolted you back to reality. You peeked up, eyes straining to spy who approached, when the orange of Ezra’s cargo pants came into view.

He gave you an odd look. “Weather good down there?”

“Peachy,” you said, sighing deeply. “If you can call being doomed by uselessness peachy.”

Ezra took one look at the forlorn shadow in your eyes and turned tail. “Yeah, hope that goes well.”

“Screw you!”

You flopped back down in your pile of self-misery, while Ezra made a beeline for someone more qualified to deal with your… predicament.

And to his great luck, he ran right into the best possible candidate in his opinion. Ezra stumbled back, bracing one arm on the wall as he looked up at Kanan. He puffed a sigh of relief, getting a raised brow from his mentor. Kanan had a sigh locked and loaded before Ezra ever got a word out.

“What is it?”

“It’s Y/N,” Ezra exasperated. “They’re wallowing in the cargo.” He patted Kanan’s shoulder as he swept by, off to his room. “I think you got that handled.”

“Why not Hera?” Kanan called after him rather desperately.

Ezra waved a dismissive hand. “She’s out with Sabine, remember?”

“Oh,” said Kanan. “Right.” Just my luck.

But—you needed help, apparently. So as much as he dreaded these sort of confrontations, Kanan made his way to the cargo bay, running several questions over before settling on simply winging it. 

You lay unmoved from your position where Ezra found you, hands folded on your chest adn eyes locked on the ceiling. Kanan peered down from the railing, sighed a rallying sigh, and climbed down the ladder to reach you. Kanan slid to the floor, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees. Glancing between you and whatever you were staring at, he leaned to nudge your arm. 

“What’re we looking at?”

You gave a hefty puff. “Nothin’. Ezra sent you?”

Caught. Kanan shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. He was worried.”

“Tch.” Clearly, you disagreed. That, or you just didn’t care. Either way, Kanan too felt concern gnaw at him, your behavior odd to say the least. 

“Mind if I ask what’s wrong?” Before you could quip back something snappy, he beat you to it. “Because obviously something’s on your mind. You’ve been off for a few days now.” 

Ever since that last mission, he noticed silently. Kanan tried to think of anything that might have triggered such a reaction, yet he came up short. “Listen… can we skip the part where upi pretend to be fine? You know whatever you say won’t leave me.”

You gave a hefty sigh and adjusted to sit up, shuffling toward the wall to rest against it. You nodded to the space beside you, Kanan soon occupying it. For some time all you did was fiddle with your hands, lips sealed shut. “I can’t even dress my own wounds.”

Kanan quirked a brow, eyes wandering confusedly, till… oh. He zeroed in on the gauze wrapped around your bicep, expertly tied off by Sabine that morning. You’d been shot with blaster, leaving a nasty burn behind. “Neither can Ezra.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” you scoffed, brows knit. 

He rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, it’s supposed to.”

“Well it’s not.” You shifted further away from Kanan. “I just… I want to be more useful.”

There it is. Kanan tilted his head, trying to catch your fleeting gaze. “What made you think you were?”

You sputtered over fractured words, grabbing at them frantically. “Just look at me! That last mission could’ve gotten screwed up because of me.” You coiled your knees into your chest. “And on top of it all, I got myself hurt too.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But it is! If I only knew how to fight…” You huffed, puffing out a breath. “I’m not a pilot or a Jedi or a warrior… I don’t even know why I’m here anymore…”

Immediately Kanan’s face fell. In the tense silence to follow, he set a gentle hand on your shoulder. In a soft tone, he cooed your name, saying, “You’re not here for anything you can do.” When you only sighed further, he said, “None of us are. We’re here because we believe in the same cause. Freedom.”

Lifting your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “Still, doesn’t make this wound any less my fault.”

Kanan ticked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Then let it heal and I’ll teach you to fight myself.” Your head swiveled around, lips agape. Kanan offered you a smile. “You’re here for a reason. You may not know what it is now, but one day you will.

“Besides���” Kanan stood to his feet, reaching out to take your hand “—I want you here. Everyone else does too. The ship wouldn’t be the same without you, kid.”

Heart swelling, you gave a shaky nod and jumped to your feet, doing your best to stifle a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Sudden trampling echoed out from the balcony and seconds later Ezra jumped out, sliding down the ladder and making for the control panel. He pressed a large button and flipped a switch and the hatch to the cargo bay began to lower. “Sabine and Hera are back.”

Sure enough, the two women walked up the ramp, a box of supplies in hand. A grin tugged at your lips, only widening as Sabine ruffled your hair as she passed and Hera’s smile met yours tenfold. Yet it all fell apart when you caught Kanan’s I told you so gaze, and you forced your lips into a stiff frown. 

Ezra broke the moment as Hera called to Kanan, the boy’s eyes stuck on the corner you’d previously been staring at. “Wait, that spiderweb is kinda cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiot,” you scoffed, heading off into the ship's depths with Sabine, unwilling to acknowledge the warm fuzzy feeling unfurling in your chest. You would learn to fight, and then maybe you wouldn’t be so useless—or, perhaps, start to believe Kanan, and you would accept this little family more and more, bit by bit.

[illuminatedquill]

Ghost Stories #01

Feat. Sabine Wren & Hera Syndulla

Story Context: Sabine tells Hera about her decision to be trained as a Jedi and is met with a cold reception.

"You're going to do what?" asked Hera, her voice almost a shout at the end.

Sabine blinked, taken aback at the Twi'lek's response. It was certainly not the one she had been expecting. They were sitting in the Ghost's communal area; outside, the constant buzz of machinery and maintenance tools from the ship crew could be heard as the old freighter underwent some much-needed repairs.

Feeling uneasy, Sabine leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. "I thought you'd be supportive," she said.

Hera massaged at her temples, grimacing. "And why would you think I'd be supportive of you being a Jedi?"

Feeling defensive, Sabine countered, "You were supportive when Ezra did it. And Kanan, too, when he decided to take up that mantle again. What makes me so different?"

"That was then. This is now," Hera replied. "This is not a good idea, Sabine."

Sabine narrowed her eyes at Hera. "Ahsoka seems to think so. You know, the actual Jedi."

"Former Jedi," Hera corrected. "And believe it or not, Ahsoka thinking so doesn't make me more convinced."

"What, you have an issue with her, too? You guys always seemed friendly to me."

"That was before Malachor," Hera shot back. "Where has she been all this time during the war? She hasn't said anything to anyone. She's different now. Less . . . I don't know, just less of herself, it seems."

Sabine couldn't argue with that. Talking with her master sometimes felt like trying to conversate with a rock. Whatever happened at that Sith Temple seemed to have robbed Ahsoka of her spirit; she seemed listless on some days, adrift from herself and others.

Desperately casting around for a change of subject, Sabine asked, "Where's Jacen?"

"With his grandfather on Ryloth," said Hera. "Don't try to change the subject, Sabine."

"Fine," Sabine snapped. "I don't understand why you're so hostile about this. It's my decision. I'm an adult. What are you going to do when Jacen starts showing an interest, huh?"

"I don't know!" Hera shouted, throwing her hands up. "I'm not - I'm not strong enough, okay?"

Sabine cocked her head at her friend. "What do you mean, 'not strong enough'?"

Hera hung her head. Hands clenching into fists, she suddenly banged them on the table. Sabine jolted in her seat from the abrupt display of anger.

"Hera?" asked Sabine quietly. "What's going on?"

"Kanan. Ezra. Ahsoka. And now - you," Hera muttered. "Maybe someday, even Jacen. I'm so sick of losing people. I'm not strong enough to lose you, too."

"Losing - what? You're not going to lose me like you did with Kanan, Hera. I promise. Ahsoka came back, too, even if she's not the same as before! She's still fighting! And Ezra's still out there."

Hera turned her face back to Sabine. The younger woman felt her heart twist, seeing the cascade of tears on the Twi'lek's face.

"You're already gone, don't you get it? I've lost you. Once you decide to take that mantle - when you add 'Jedi' to your name, it's over," Hera whispered miserably. "That's the truth of this galaxy, Sabine. Jedi die."

Sabine shook her head. "Kanan died. I know that still hurts for you. But I'm still here and I promise Ahsoka isn't going anywhere either. Neither is Jacen. I'll make sure of it myself. And I will bring Ezra back," she added fiercely.

Hera smiled bitterly. "It's better if you leave him out there. Even better if he's dead. Because if Ezra isn't dead, then that means the Force isn't done with him yet. That means Ezra is destined for more suffering. For more sacrifice and heartbreak."

The Twi'lek leaned forward, her eyes glassy with bottomless pain. "Leave him be, Sabine. Don't go looking for him anymore. If you love him at all, you'll let him go."

Sabine was silent. Then, in an icy tone, she replied, "You don't mean that, Hera. I know you don't."

Hera looked away, blinking rapidly. Then, quietly, she said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

She didn't know what to say to comfort Hera. It's clear her friend had been harboring some deep conflict over the fate of her Jedi loved ones. Sabine belatedly realized that her deciding to be a Jedi was, to Hera, probably adding to that conflict.

To that buried pain.

Jacen was destined to follow in his father's footsteps someday. Maybe Hera saw Sabine as a safe option - that she would never take up the mantle and responsibility one day and could be relied upon to never break her heart the same way that Kanan and Ezra did.

Sabine wondered if she ever had nightmares about burying her one day. Or Jacen. Or Ahsoka. Outliving them all.

She wanted to hug Hera in that moment so badly. But something in the Twi'lek's demeanor told her that it wouldn't be welcome.

She stood up and made to depart. "I'll let you get some rest, Hera. We'll talk later."

Still not looking at her, Hera gave the barest of nods in acknowledgement. Sabine turned to go -

"Sabine."

She paused at the hallway leading to the docking bay.

"Follow your heart. I'll always believe in you, no matter what."

Without turning around, Sabine said, "Thanks, Hera."

"Don't thank me," came the sad reply. "You're going to be a Jedi now. Just like Kanan and Ezra. I don't get to keep you anymore."

Sabine was quiet. Listening.

"You belong to the Force now. I know you'll do well. You always have. It's in your nature to rise and meet whatever challenges come your way."

Sabine felt touched by Hera's words, yet there was a chill in her blood from the solemn way she uttered them. Finally, she worked up the nerve to turn around and face her directly.

Hera just gazed at her, but not seeing her at all - seeing through her, was the better term.

Like she wasn't there.

Like she was already a ghost.

"You have an important role to play now, Sabine. And, just like the other Jedi I loved, you'll play it . . . to the very end."

*Author's Note: Hello! So, this is just a seed of a story. Sometimes, when I'm brainstorming ideas for Sabezra fics, I'll have these conversations/scenes between characters pop up in my head, out of context. I don't know if I'll ever include these in future fics but I've decided to just start writing them down and posting them here just to keep track of. I always have ideas bouncing inside my head for stories regarding Sabine, Ezra, and the Ghost crew in general, so there will be more of these little fic-lets, I guess the term is? Except these aren't really full-fledged stories. Just short scenes.

Anyway, the genesis for this is pretty simple: I've always been interested if Hera feels conflicted about all the Jedi in her life, seeing as though they've all been met with terrible fates. I find it odd that Hera in the Ahsoka series seems all onboard for Jacen training to be a Jedi, considering what happened to his father and Ezra (and Ahsoka, to a degree). As a mother, she has to feel some trepidation about encouraging Jacen to be a Jedi - especially in that day and age. And now with Sabine - someone who is like a daughter to her - resolving to take up the mantle of a Jedi, I wanted to write out a scene where all those buried negative feelings bursts forth. I'm realizing that this is probably veering Hera into out-of-character territory, but it makes for a really good, dramatic, and angsty conflict between her and Sabine.

[frederick2223]

"Sabine, darling?" Ezra groaned under the weight of the couch. "Hm?" In the weeks since the second bring-someone-back-home-from-Peridea, Sabine and Ezra had decided to move into the old E-272 LothalNet Comm Tower Ezra once called home back before he encountered Zeb, Kanan, Hera, Chopper, and Sabine. And today was to be day one of the remodeling process, dedicated to taking all the crates, and the furniture fallen into disrepair. The first order of business was anything that wasn't bolted to the wall.

"Maybe- maybe we should have used The Force for this.." Sabine snorted hysterically and shook her head. "Come on, Ezra Bridger, are you telling me you don't wanna work those tendons?" It became apparent that Sabine did not realize the opening she had given Ezra. "Maybe I'd like to work your tendons." "Okay there, mister. That's enough of that.." She'd broken out into hysterics almost hard enough to make her drop the couch, but Ezra was fast on his feet to prop it back up again, to which Sabine grabbed the couch's legs again and hoisted it level. Seeing Sabine laugh like that was a contagious virus for the likes of Ezra Bridger. Soon he found himself chortling as seeing her turn vivid red over his comment reminded him of the sheer magnitude of the fact that she was his Sabine Wren, and he was her Ezra Bridger. Neither of them liked making highly detailed plans, but they both reminded themselves to at least keep one vague schedule in the back of their heads amidst frequent matters and threats to respond to. A schedule that allowed them to finally be young again and take their time with the other. Remodeling, then settling down, then marriage. In the years after his stranding, Lothal had become something of an elysium. Shimmering skyscrapers and endless bright green grass with rolling hills denoted a world having changed for the better after the overthrowing of Imperial rule. Ezra swore he could never get tired of seeing Lothal like this, so much beauty and wonder in his general vicinity, something so revitalizing all around him every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year. And yet, after setting the couch into the speeder, looking out into the vast swathes of color around them, neither Sabine nor Ezra ever considered anything other than each other the most beautiful, no, gorgeous thing in their lives. He was her Ezra Bridger, and she was his Sabine Wren.

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Unsinkable

Chapter 46: The Moment of Truth

Characters: Din Djarin, Sabine Wren, Grogu, Ezra Bridger, Omega, The Armorer, Paz Vizsla, Koska Reeves, Fenn Rau, Chopper

Words: 4204

Summary: On route to Concordia, the crew uncover something sinister…

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

It had been many, many years since Sabine had found herself inside a Kom’rk fighter, the last time being when she gifted the Darksaber to Bo-Katan Kryze that fateful night on Mandalore over a decade ago.

Fenn and Koska’s ship was no different from that craft: narrow, sharp, utilitarian; no flourishes or excess comforts. The only personalized touches were the faded streaks of paint on the outside hull and a batch of not-so-discreet tally marks on the bulkhead; otherwise, the space was grey and efficient, utterly lacking the lived-in warmth of vessels like the Ghost and the Path Finder.

It wasn’t meant to be a home, of course. There weren’t superfluous things strewn about or glommed on, no tangible traces of beings belonging to the craft and vice versa. It was designed, built, and employed as a fighter and a troop convoy; coziness was never even a glimmer of a thought in its inception. It was sleek and practical and purposeful, a small concession being the faint beskar veins carved into the floor.

The Protectors sat at the helm, piloting the ship with the comfortable rhythm of a devoted teacher and keen apprentice, their postures ironed straight and their dialogue reduced to only the necessary. 

Lothal and Mandalore weren’t very far from one another, making the jump relatively short, just under two hours, but with the strain of anticipation and uncertainty winding the air in the craft tight and grim, the journey felt like it would take all day.

There was no banter, no real conversation in the interim; the atmosphere weighed heavy and thick, allowing no more than breathing and racing thoughts.

Sabine’s mother, stationed at navigation, regally mirrored Fenn and Koska’s strategic calm. Paz sat like a silent mountain in his seat the whole way. Chopper was never nervous about anything but he had packed away his jovial mischievousness for the time being, projecting seriousness as much as a droid lacking expressive features could manage. Ezra, Sabine thought, still looked a little pale and drawn, but he and Grogu had assumed that placidity peculiar to Jedi, both sitting quiet with their eyes closed, and while Omega hadn’t come to that lesson yet, she was a trained and experienced soldier in her own right: she commanded her countenance, and not a slice of anxiety slipped through.

Din appeared as calm as the rest of them.

His composure all morning impressed Sabine; he hadn’t spent a moment idle but neither did his activity appear frantic. 

He woke, stretched, warmed-up, showered, dressed, and donned his armour as per routine. He made breakfast for them, one arm sacrificed to holding a quiet but clingy Grogu as he did so. He did his rounds through the tribe, ensuring things were in order and assigning extra watchmen for his impending absence. He sparred with Fenn and then Koska—ones who had the most experience with Bo-Katan’s fighting style. Then the Ghost arrived, Hera and Kanan assured him they would help guard the tribe, he reunited with Ezra, made sure he was strong and well enough for this next stint of the journey, and then they were off.

Now he sat—as he had for the whole flight—in a jumpseat furthest from everyone else, still as a statue. He didn’t fidget, didn’t shift about, his breathing was steady and imperceptible, even his hands which so often gave him away lay still on his knees.

With the full armour and helmet on, it was impossible to see his expression, to see any of those microscopic tells that betrayed the bare-faced every minute of every day.

But Sabine didn’t need to see his face to know how he felt and even his crafted composure couldn’t fool her. 

It wasn’t some mystic thing.

It definitely wasn’t the Force.

It was that she had been with him in those quiet, most private moments and she had seen so far under the mask that now, even with it firmly in place, she knew too well what he hid beneath.

The navicomputer beeped, the discreet sound rending the silence.

“Ten minutes till we exit hyperspace,” Koska announced. No one responded but they had all heard.

Sabine nudged at the floor to turn her seat around. She stood, catching Din’s eye as she did so, if the way his helmet snapped towards her was any indication. She nodded to the back of the craft, beckoning him to follow her.

Without hesitation or protest, he got up and went, reaching the relative seclusion of the hold ahead of her.

Armour frames lined the narrow space like skeletons with their heads bowed. When the doors slid closed behind them, separating them from the others, Sabine slid her helmet off and left it on the nearest frame, like one might hang a hat on a hook. She thought she might have to prompt Din to do the same but, barely a beat off, he copied her.

For a moment, she studied his face, not quite reading him as much as she was selfishly committing every line and shadow to memory.

(As if she could ever forget him…)

“So. This is it,” he said, looking at her but not managing to keep his gaze tied to her.

Her heart twisted.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to ask if he was okay, wanted to express her confidence in him, wanted to impart some kind of encouragement; if all she could come up with was a quip, she would at the very least give him that. But every word evaporated the instant it formed in her mind, never going so far as to connect to a neighbour and string together a sentence. In that moment, it all felt so hollow and impotent.

Because this was it.

The moment they had dreaded and run from for so long, the moment everything hung on, the moment they rewrote history. It was so grand and crucial, so significant, but, right now, right here, it didn’t seem real in the slightest.

He stood there, facing her, unable to slip into pacing in this limited space. His head hung a little lopsidedly, eyelids flickering as he blinked rapidly, gaze giving up and falling to the ground, low light gliding and stalling over his chestplate as he drew a short, juddering breath, all that calm composure left behind in the other compartment.

She stepped forward and held the sides of his face, softly carding her fingers in his hair. 

Immediately, it was like his strings had been cut; his spine seemed to liquify, causing his shoulders to sag and his head to weigh heavy in her grasp. She barely had to nudge her own head up to bring their foreheads together.

“I just want this to be over,” he confessed in a whisper, as if afraid of the others hearing.

“Me too,” she said, her eyes screwing tighter shut.

They held like that for a long time, rooted in place, minutes flowing past like the water of a raging river.

Ultimately, Din broke away first. He didn’t really pull away, just lifted his head and reached up to fiddle with the catch of his cloak. Sabine frowned, not sure what he was doing as he suddenly unclasped and unwound the fabric from his shoulders.

“Here,” he said, laying the dark, tattered cloak on her shoulders, the length of it falling, not behind her, but over her arm.

She laughed. “I’m warm enough, love, don’t worry.”

“No.” It was just a small word but it sounded choked, like this was important to him, he just didn’t know how to explain. He was shaking his head. “It’s not that. You need… we can’t let Kryze…” his face pulled as he lost his grip on the words he was trying to pull together. With a defeated little sigh, he spread his hand over her belly, the faintest tremble in his fingers not so different from the infant’s mild movements.

“Okay,” she said, quietly, covering his hand with her own. She understood: she might barely be showing but it would be wise not to give Bo-Katan any chance to find out about this. 

She had already stooped so low.

They couldn’t say she wouldn’t go lower.

Gently and meticulously, like everything depended on him getting this just right, Din arranged the cloak so it fell over her like a poncho, leaving her right arm free. It also just so happened to cover the pauldron displaying their shared crest—she didn’t know if he considered that, but it could afford them one more advantage. If Bo-Katan didn’t even know what Sabine meant to Din, she would have no reason to target her as something to be used against him.

Sabine had already taken extra precautions, such as adding a blaster-proof placard to her gear. She had also been advised by just about everyone not to stand anywhere too close to the action, should a duel erupt.

They still didn’t know if there was even going to be a duel; this could very well end without a single weapon being drawn on either side. But there was no guarantee, either way, and preparation was a valuable ally to have on their side.

A ship-wide chime interrupted their quiet moment.

“Guess it��s showtime,” Sabine said as, without ceremony, she lifted Din’s helmet off the armour frame and handed it to him. He accepted it and bowed his head to slip it on, the seal emitting a curt hiss as it reactivated.

The jaig eyes were just a symbol, inanimate and incapable of emotion, but they seemed to convey his resolve—as strong as the beskar and ten times as unbreakable.

Just as they returned to the cockpit, the hallmark whine of a hyperdrive winding up for exit built. 

The Kom’rk hadn’t juddered when they jumped and it didn’t so much as wobble now as they returned to regular space, stars rushing to snap back into place, the brilliant blue tunnel evaporating to that unfathomable but strangely comforting black void.

Sabine reclaimed the seat she had so briefly vacated while Din continued on, stationing himself between Fenn and Koska, resting a hand on the back of each seat, ready to stabilize himself should the ship suddenly decide to buck.

On purpose, they arrived, not just above the atmosphere of Concordia, but at a distance beyond where standard scans should detect them. 

Concordia’s colours and size did not impress. It was a very average sized moon and its landscape was sturdy and predictable: white clouds, brown dirt, green forests, a few discreet streaks and splashes of muted blue marking rivers and lakes but no oceans. The dayside didn’t attract any special attention and the nightside lay completely in the dark—no glittery geometric grids marking metropolises.

It wasn’t that the moon was an uninteresting or lacklustre vision, but one’s eye couldn’t dwell on it for very long… not with the swollen mass of Mandalore looming behind it.

Din never doubted the songs that travelled through the network of coverts in the wake of the Night of a Thousand Tears: those doleful whisperings warning of death promised for any who dared set foot on the capitol world after the Empire’s devastation.

Melodrama aside, there was weight to the warnings.

Upon the Empire’s decisive defeat, a number of worlds that had been under their thumb suffered either a twisted kind of retribution for not saving their bloated sovereigns or the doomed Imps dug their claws in, determined to pull anything and anyone within their grasp down to the same grave.

Mandalore had been in the process of ridding themselves of Imperial rule when the end came. So the Imps, realizing they could not have the planet or the people, decided to destroy both.

Brutally, totally, they lashed out and struck everything they could, pouring out the last of their artillery on the system.

Some said the heat of the explosions melted the surface of Mandalore to impenetrable glass, rendering regrowth and resettlement impossible. Some said they planted traps in the rubble to catch and kill any returners like feral animals. Some said they poisoned the atmosphere and set off eternal storms. Some said other… things had taken residence there: creatures, monsters, things that defied description and all morality.

Din believed it could be any or all of those things, perhaps even more, because he knew of other worlds that had suffered such fates.

But this…

This was something right from his wildest nightmares.

If he didn’t know it was a planet, he would have assumed it was a maelstrom, the kind deep-space pilots described, partly to impress, partly to warn, the unmitigated horror in their eyes the only testimony they needed.

Deep, sick shades of green swirled and snaked around oily blacks and lifeless, ashy greys. What was atmosphere and what was surface was impossible to distinguish: it looked like a mass of ever churning liquid—never mixing, never blending. Yellow lightning jolted through the clouds at random intervals as if attempting to bring back a long-dead heartbeat.

Din had seen worlds depleted of their resources and left as husks—worlds like Corvus. He had seen worlds with ruined landscapes—worlds like Morak. He had seen worlds that were inhospitable to begin with—worlds like Tatooine.

Never had he laid eyes on a world so thoroughly, irrevocably mutilated and poisoned.

Neither had anyone else, if the sudden solemnity was anything to measure by.

“Well,” he said because he felt like someone should speak right about now, someone should interrupt the smothering silence, “it didn’t look like that last time.”

Sabine whipped towards him. “I thought you said you had never seen Mandalore.”

Din gave a small, rocking shake of his head. “I’ve never been to Mandalore, but I have seen it. Kind of.” He pointed out the viewport. “I trained down there.”

She followed his gesture, helmet bobbing back with a small jolt of surprise. “You trained on Concordia?”

“Yeah. That’s where the Fighting Corps. was.”

“On Concordia?” 

“Of course,” Paz confirmed, sounding on the verge of taking offence. 

Sabine shook her head. “Okay. That’s… not what I expected.”

Din tilted his head, frowning unseen. “Wait. What exactly did you think the Fighting Corps. was?”

She shrugged. “I know what it is, I just thought it was…” her hand drew a meaningless circle in the air as she searched for the word. He couldn’t see her face but he could easily picture that little crimp in her brow she got when she had a description in mind but realized it could too easily be taken the wrong way.

“Underground?” he supplied, sparing her.

“I was gonna say ‘temporary.’ You know? Something you could move at a moment’s notice.”

Like the rest of the covert, she didn’t say but he knew what she meant.

Neither was she entirely wrong.

The Fighting Corps. operated in Vizsla territory, as they had for centuries. They endured many a disruption over the years, most notable being the time of the Civil War when the warriors were exiled to Concordia and Death Watch festered, claiming more than what belonged to them. But by the time Din began his training—slap-bang in the middle of the Imperial era—Death Watch had moved on, splintered, and regrown somewhere else, leaving the Vizsla Stronghold to its ancestral owners, and while Mandalore fell under the Empire, Concordia was mostly left to its own devices, so long as they didn’t cause trouble.

Ultimately, however, the Purge happened and Concordia was not exempt. The Fighting Corps. was thus dissolved.

In the years since, the elite training program continued but to a much lesser degree—there weren’t enough resources and spaces to fully hone the next generation’s skills.

“I was vaguely picturing a boot camp,” Ezra chimed in. “Mud pits. Cramped barracks. Miscellaneous, cobbled together obstacles. Awful food.”

Grogu, in his hover pod, reached out and tugged on his uncle’s sleeve, squeaking insistently.

“And Grogu would like the record to reflect that he thought it was a factory on the lava world,” Ezra translated for the little one.

“Okay, I don’t know why, but I was picturing a swamp planet with, like, lots of big nasties for you guys to wrestle, hunt, tame or whatever in your free time,” Omega added. 

Ezra pointed to her like he was picking up on her trail. “Yeah, something like that. I imagined you would find the most dangerous, uninhabited planet on the map—”

“Probably sleep in a damp cave,” Sabine pitched in.

“Right outside a pit filled with gigantic, ravenous beasts that would just eat one of you each week, and whoever survived to the end of the term got to graduate,” Omega finished.

Din rolled his eyes, taking the inane derailment of the subject for what it was—pre-battle banter, nothing more. “Now why would we ever do a thing like that?” he asked in droning deadpan.

“The why eludes me,” Ezra admitted.

“But I could picture it,” Omega said to which Chopper snickered and Sabine traitorously nodded her agreement.

Fenn cleared his throat as if to suppress a laugh. Koska said nothing during this exchange but she did shake her head in clear exasperation, no doubt wondering for the umpteenth time why the Mand’alor kept such odd company. Paz seemed to be staring aghast at them.

The back-and-forth had done what it could, unwinding some of the unease that had set in.

Now it was back to business.

“It looks bad,” Koska said, referring to Mandalore, “but it’s completely safe. We scanned it when we were checking out Concordia. What you’re seeing is just storms in the upper atmosphere; underneath that, the planet’s fine.”

Chopper blew a crude raspberry, the kind of sound he made to voice disbelief and disagreement (and as a substitute for expletives).

“The droid’s right: not according to these scans,” Ursa said. She hadn’t participated in the banter and now, as Din turned around, he saw she had kept busy with the atmospheric scans.

Lured by a small, germinating sense of curiosity, he moved to stand beside her. As he came, she magnified the results on the screen for his benefit. He motioned for her to scroll through the readout as he skimmed.

He wasn’t a scientist but he was a seasoned traveller; he knew what he was seeing.

If he had to summarize the results of the scans, he could boil it down to just three words.

Turn back now.

“Koska, I don’t know where you got your intel, but the planet is far from fine,” he said.

“I got the intel myself,” she insisted, indignantly, as she jabbed at buttons, loudly. There was a beat of silence as Din presumed she read the scans she had piped through to the screen by her. 

“The atmosphere isn’t just toxic; it’s radioactive,” Sabine said, reading over Koska’s shoulder. “Don’t think there’s an organic being of any species that could survive levels like that.”

“Technically, a baseline human would survive about five minutes,” Omega explained. “But then your organs would kinda…”

“Shutdown?” Paz offered.

“Sure. Let’s go with that,” Omega said but, judging by the deep wrinkle in her expression, Din imagined the death by that radiation would be far more brutal.

I’ll tell you no lies…

Anyone who goes there dies…

He recalled the night he met Bo-Katan and her lieutenants. 

Wary but grateful for their assistance, he followed them to the cantina in the whaling town—the same place he had, just hours earlier, been caught in the Quarren Brothers’ elaborate trap. The others ate, all the while casting judgement on the empty placemat in front of him. (They underestimated his resolve: they could glare and sneer all night long, he wasn’t going to break a lifelong vow to momentarily appease them.)

Bit by polished bit, Bo-Katan related their operations, explaining their mission without divulging anything she didn’t want the other patrons to catch.

It was simple.

The Empire had plundered Mandalore in the Purge and they were now taking the plunder back—be it the original articles themselves or what was bought with the proceeds.

Ultimately, they intended to use that plunder—the weapons and the ships—to take back their homeworld. Then it was all talk of thrones and a new Mand’alor and, at the time, Din just rolled his eyes.

Because even if there was no uncanny curse lurking on the planet, there would be an Imperial remnant, which was pretty much the same thing.

They didn’t stand a chance.

Better to move on.

Better to take that plunder and put it to more practical use, procuring necessary stock and supplies for the scattered tribes that remained. Better to care for the living than keep chasing the dead.

In the end, of course, Din did help Bo-Katan with her mission, putting more on the line than he reasonably should have, choices made by pure, strained desperation, judgement clouded by fatigue and a deepening lack of self-preservation. He didn’t care for her glorified suicide plans so the moment he had what he came for, he bolted.

Now…

Now he had to wonder…

How much of his contribution was going towards enabling a mass casualty event?

“You said Kryze intends to reclaim Mandalore soon,” Ezra said more to the room than to anyone in particular.

“She does,” Koska confirmed, her voice sounding dry and hollow now.

His mouth set in a grim line as he gazed out the viewport at the ailing planet. Slowly, he shook his head, a kind of apologetic sorrow in his eyes.

Grogu, too, looked somber, his ears slanting down as if they had suddenly grown too heavy to hold up, wide, glossy eyes gazing forlornly at the sick planet. Din wondered what it all must feel like to the Jedi…

“It will take a few millennia for that to clear on its own,” Omega said, gravely.

“There’s nothing alive down there,” Sabine pointed out. “If there had at least been some plant life left, maybe…”

“Even with artificial assistance, we’d be looking at centuries before we could even think of rebuilding the domed cities,” Fenn said, suddenly sounding so very old and defeated. His helmet turned, sharply, as he looked to Koska, gold details glinting. “You said you conducted comprehensive scans during the scouting trips.”

“I did! I swear I did!” Koska insisted, hands chopping in terse, frantic gestures. “Multiple scans, in fact. They all came back the same: the upper atmosphere is toxic but it’s like a canopy; below that, the air is breathable and radiation levels were within limits.”

“Maybe it was a good day,” Chopper chimed in, sarcastically.

Moved by Koska’s sincerity, Din consulted the readouts again, half-expecting to find he had misinterpreted them.

But there was no margin of error, no probable doubt.

Mandalore was dead and poisoned.

“I don’t understand,” Koska said, sounding frustrated and despairing, rapidly scrolling through the scans as if to find any bit of exoneration that might have been hiding within. “We all conducted scans; we all got the same results.”

“Who’s we? You and the other scouts?” Din inquired.

“Yes.”

“But not Rau?”

Koska stilled. She turned her seat around to look at Din. There was caution in her stance now, he noted.

He raised a placating hand. “Fenn did not go with you,” he said, he didn’t ask. He pointed to the floor. “This ship was not a part of the scouting party.”

“What are you saying?” Koska challenged.

“Scans can be falsified,” Sabine said, effortlessly picking up Din’s trail of reasoning and running with it. “Either the equipment could’ve been tampered with or false readings programmed to turn up. But if Rau’s ship wasn’t part of the convoy, there wouldn’t be any reason to waste time tampering with it.”

“I also maintain my own ship,” Fenn pitched in, “I would’ve noticed straight away if someone had messed with anything.”

“Okay, but why would anyone want to do that in the first place?” Omega asked. “If you convince everyone a toxic planet is safe, you’d just end up killing everyone who goes down there.” 

Din felt his throat close, as if that poisoned air were slowly seeping through the cockpit. In a haze in the back of his mind, he recalled Sabine’s words to him, some months ago.

I do believe she cared for Mandalore… 

It just turned out to be Mandalore the planet.

Not Mandalore the people.

He couldn’t see any sense in it.

But, then, neither could he fathom ravaging a peaceful settlement, or killing innocent civilians, or hiring the galaxy’s most brutal bounty hunters to track down a fellow Mandalorian, promising them the bulk of the armour as reward.

She did not think the way he did.

She did not abide by the same codes and morals he did.

He had come to accept that but still he thought she would have some line somewhere she would not cross. Killing him was one thing—he was an obstacle to her—but killing all her people?

A sense of dread and disgust washed through him. 

But it was Paz who finally said it aloud.

“If she can’t rule the Mandalorians, she’ll ensure no one else can.”

. . . . .

I think they dropped the “Mandalore is cursed” stuff way too soon. There was so much potential there. Nevermind. I get to use it for my sandbox creations then 😜

🎶chapter playlist🎶 (this is for this chapter and the next)

Heaven Knows — Five for Fighting

Son of Man — Peyton Parrish

I’ll Make a Man Out of You — Peyton Parrish

Keep the Car Running — The Goo Goo Dolls

Showtime — Skillet

Angel with a Shotgun — The Cab

Memory — Written by Wolves

Conquer — RIVVRS

This is War — Thirty Seconds to Mars 

[theknightofivanhoe]

The Republic naval hangar was packed with activity, alien and human maintenance crew and pilots tending to X, Y and A-wing fighters and more, astromech droids with colourful markings rolling on by, tinkering with the fighters with servo arms or fitted into the sockets of their respective spacecraft. Among all this hustle and bustle, two female aliens were walking side-by-side past workers, droids and fighter crew; Hera Syndulla and Ahsoka Tano. And right now, neither was able to resist the little glances they were sending each other.

Ahsoka just couldn’t get enough of how that fleece-collared jacket so snugly fit Hera’s lithe frame, whilst enhancing the sheer authority the tall, ravishingly gorgeous Twi’lek held over her fellow Republic military. Hera herself couldn’t keep herself from blushing at the way Ahsoka’s lips would morph into cocky little smirks, her orange face wreathed with white markings beaming with a playfulness she had never truly abandoned even after what she had gone through during conflicts against the Separatists and the Empire.

Something told both Republic pilot and force-wielder that the amount of times one had been eyeing the other as they walked on was increasing relentlessly. Not that they minded even the smallest bit. Twi’lek and Togruta were just itching to caress one another’s lekku, to pull at flight uniform and battle outfit, to kiss hungrily and possibly never part their rich, full lips. But right now, neither Ahsoka nor Hera could do any of these, not in the midst of all these people and droids around them. Boots clicking briskly across the floor, the deprivation left them simply starved for contact, yearning to sate the temptations tugging at them both physically and emotionally.

It was Ahsoka who quickly looked around herself, checking for any pilot or mechanic who might notice her and tuning into her Force sensitivity just to be sure. Now could be the right moment, so she decided to chance it.

Once they had reached a somewhat less-crowded part of the hangar, Ahsoka homed in on Hera, her round, plump derrière bulging under her orange bodysuit like a pair of ripe meilooruns clear in her sights and made her move. In one swift whoosh, Ahsoka gave Hera a quick, sharp smack on the bottom!

‘WHAP!’

The sting of Ahsoka’s hand on Hera’s buttocks made her gasp and freeze mid-walk, her face turning as hot as an overloaded power converter! She turned to Ahsoka with her mouth agape in pure shock, the Togruta gleefully smirking back at her with her eyes twinkling wickedly. After a second (or two) of this paralysis, her bum stinging from that slap, Hera felt her lips tugging at the edges. Next she and Ahsoka ended up bursting into fits of giggles, their laughter now impossible to suppress for much longer. The two looked away as they tried with all their might to compose themselves, but at this point, it was like water falling from a collapsed dam. A military hangar was by far a less-than-appropriate place to perform such intimate gestures, and Hera knew she could easily call Ahsoka out on this. But she didn’t, grinning back at the Togruta who still wore a smirk of unapologetic mischief. Even Ahsoka knew that neither she nor the Twi’lek general could deny just how much they relished the scandalousness of that slap she had dared to do. Not wanting to raise any suspicions, the two resumed their journey through the hangar even as they attempted to wrestle down their grins and sniggering. Apart from some brief turning of heads from pilots or mechanics walking past, it did seem to Ahsoka and Hera that they might have - just might have - got away with that little prank. As far as Ahsoka could see, Kanan, Force rest his soul, had always been on to something with Hera, in more ways than one…

[martianbugsbunny]

To Convince You That I Love You (A Kalluzeb Fic): Chapter 2

*staring and waving thru the window* I'm really enjoying this fic, it's I think four chapters, so it's already halfway done lol, and it's loads of fun. And speaking of fun Kallus is going to pass out and be sped back to the Ghost for emergency transport to medical facilities!!! Woo-hoo!!! This one's from Zeb's POV, so strap y'allselves in and get ready for him to be completely wigging about what happened to Kallus but also being as gentle as possible when moving him bc I am such a sucker for that. Read on and enjoy!

Zeb heard the explosion and instantly fired the last three shots he needed to finish off the stormtroopers with perfect precision. He sprinted towards the landing pad, fear shooting through him. Come on, Kal, please don’t have been in the blast.

The shuttle was a smoking ruin, the metal buckling against the inferno inside. That agent they had been tracking was dead. There was no way she could have survived.

But Zeb didn’t care about the mission anymore. He filtered out the smoldering pile of rubble and scanned his surroundings for any sign of Kallus.

Finally he saw Kallus lying several yards away from the shuttle, thrown by the power of the blast. Zeb sprinted over, moving faster than he could remember doing in a long time. His palms were sweating and he could hardly feel his legs, he was so terrified. Losing Kallus was…well, it was his personal worse-case scenario.

He knelt down. Kallus’s leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and there was a piece of metal embedded in his upper arm. Worse, his nose was bleeding heavily, and there were dark bruises around his eyes and behind his ears: sure signs of a head injury. Somehow, though, he was still (barely) awake.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered. He couldn’t seem to focus his gaze on Zeb’s face. “Everything’s…foggy.”

Then his eyes fell shut and his head tipped to one side, the muscles in his neck slack.

Zeb slung his bo-rifle onto his back. There was no good way to pick Kallus up, with one of each limb wounded, so he simply did his best to support Kallus’s legs above the injured joint and thanked his lucky stars that his wounded arm was not the one that ended up held tightly against Zeb’s chest.

Kanan and Sabine had long since cleared out the troopers who had pinned down the Ghost. In fact, Zeb wondered for a moment why they hadn’t bothered reinforcing him and Kallus—but they were both trained soldiers and neither of them had commed for help, so there had really been no reason to worry.

Well, except for the fact that there was.

Zeb climbed aboard the Ghost and found Kanan and the kids debating over a topographic map he didn’t recognize at the holo-table. “There’s an outpost not too far from here, we could make a supply run before returning to base,” Ezra suggested.

“While we have an Imperial agent on board? Not gonna happen,” Sabine said. Zeb noticed that despite her confident tone, she still looked to Kanan for confirmation.

Kanan was saved from having to pick a side when he heard the sound of the ramp closing and turned to look at Zeb. “Ezra, go tell Hera to get the ship moving, now!” he commanded sharply. Ezra was turning pale, having gotten a look at the bloodied condition Kallus was in, but he did as he was told.

Zeb set Kallus down on the floor. “Let me guess: the explosion?” Sabine asked. Explosions were fairly run-of-the-mill for the Rebellion (especially when it came to the Specters) and hearing one in the distance wasn’t necessarily taken as a sign that someone was in trouble.

“Yeah.” Zeb found his throat tight, a pricking sensation he wasn’t used to irritating his eyes. “There were two Imperial fighters. They aimed for him and got the agent’s entire shuttle instead.”

Kanan wrapped his hand around Kallus’s wrist. It wasn’t the standard method of measuring a heartbeat, but his Jedi powers probably made it practical enough.

“We need to get him back to base soon,” Kanan said quietly. “Or he might not make it.”

Zeb paced to the edge of the room and slammed his fist down onto a crate. Kallus was always doing stupid things like this—putting himself in danger, taking too many risks, going way too far. When would enough be enough?

If Zeb had anything to say about it, Kallus would see the light sooner rather than later…if he lived to wake up again.

[archivistofnerddom]

Hilarious Rebels/Bad Batch crossover idea:

Everyone is chilling on Yavin 4 in a rare moment of peace. They’re enjoying this little respite to rest and recover. The Spectres is enjoying their time together, especially since they were able to get Rex and Kallus outside to enjoy some fresh air around the Ghost.

And then a heavily-modified Omicron class shuttle from the late Republic and early Empire era comes in for a hasty landing. It’s an . . . unusual approach to say the least, complete with a specific turn and a touch-down that few pilots would dare to attempt.

Everyone, especially the Spectres, are interested in what this means.

Hera remembers this ship and what its occupants did to help Ryloth during the early Imperial period. Kanan gets leery, by contrast, since he remembers Kaller.

And Rex just laughs, gets up, and casually strolls over to the shuttle.

When the shuttle opens, a blonde woman emerges from inside like a bat out of hell, rushing over to hug Rex. He is equally as excited to see her, retuning that big hug with equal enthusiasm. The spectators can hear the gonking of a GNK droid echoing from inside.

The woman is wearing an amalgamation of several different clone trooper armor pieces with some unique adaptations. Zeb is the first to comment on the massive knife attached to her thigh and the smaller one sheathed on her forearm. Kallus responds with an observation about the Zygerrian bow she’s carrying. (Using that weapon takes practice and skill.) Ezra is intrigued by the unique design of the helmet she’s carrying, especially with the skull motif on it.

Before anyone can ask who this woman is or how she found the Rebellion, Rex asks, “So, why do you need a cover story when your brothers call me in a huff?”

The woman grins and pulls out a ratty old red bandana from a pouch on her hip. (She’s got more pouches than seem necessary on her person, but she seems to know what is where.) That makes Rex howl with laughter.

“It was either this or Echo’s legs . . . and I already stole those as a prank three times,” the woman replies. “This was harder to steal honestly, but it was completely worth it!”

“This is why you’re my favorite sister, ‘Megs. I haven’t seen Hunter without that thing on in . . . maybe since Bracca actually. You know he’s going to call me to see if I know where you are, right?” Rex tells her.

Neither seem to notice the audience growing around them. With that landing and the age of the shuttle, how could there not be an audience? If they do notice their audience, they clearly don’t care. Their reunion is more important to them to worry about that.

The woman gives Rex a sly smirk. “Of course, he will. And you get to witness first hand the annoyance of Hunter with a terrible haircut. Cross pulled out the clippers again while Hunter was napping.”

That seems to make Rex’s day.

“Don’t tell me what new haircut he got. I want to be surprised.” Rex finally deigns to notice the group watching him. The Ghost crew especially seem fascinated by who this woman is. He slings an around her shoulder and asks, “Why is everyone so interested in my sister all of a sudden? You haven’t seem siblings reunite before?”

“We didn’t know you have a sister,” Sabine asks carefully. (She’s fascinated by the modifications to the shuttle. There’s no way it should be in as good condition as it is at its age.)

The woman shakes her head. “Hera did. She’s met our brothers and my squad before.”

Hera grins and laughs. “I have. It’s great to see you again, Omega. How are your brothers, by the way.”

“Oh fantastic. I’ll tell you about what they’re up to over dinner, if that’s okay with you. Rex should be getting a very annoyed call any time now from Pabu. Hunter will have looked in the mirror by now. I promised Tech and Wrecker I’d record Rex’s reaction,” the newly-named Omega says.

And that’s when Kanan finally finds his words.

“How the kriff are Rex and Clone Force 99 your brothers? They’re clones - male clones,” he asks, a myriad of emotions in his voice.

Omega sighs. This isn’t the first time that she’s had this conversation.

“Well, let’s just say some of us are little . . . deviant from the standard mold,” she replies. “Though, we prefer to be called the Bad Batch.”

[kanerallels]

90, 78, & 58 for the 501st Celebration 🎉

Congratulations!

SO sorry it took me a while to answer this one-- but it's here!! Finally!!

58: Jacen As Ezra’s Padawan And The Hijinks They Get Up To (TJSA prequel). The title says it all!

“Are we sure this is the right place to go?” Jacen asked, staring out the view port with a frown.

Ezra couldn’t blame him. The planet below them was torn to pieces, its brown surface charred black in places.  Whatever catastrophe had affected this planet had been bad.

“You’re the one who did the meditating,” he reminded Jacen. “If the Force is telling you to go to Jedha, you shouldn’t doubt it. Neither of us should.”

That, Ezra knew, was a key part of this mission for his apprentice. Learning to trust his own judgment, and his connection with the Force as a Jedi. He was only here to supervise. Everything else was up to Jacen.

Slowly, Jacen nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, let’s do this.”

“Excellent,” Ezra said, nudging the New Dawn forward. “Operation Kyber Crystal is a go.”

Whatever awaited them on the surface, they could handle it. Ezra was sure of that much.

78. Kanan as a Lunar Guard au. Ohhhh this one. This one is good. It's an au set in the TLC universe, where Kanan is a Lunar! He saves Ezra, who's a shell, and they take off to Earth! And I went a little crazy for this one, so enjoy!!

90. Pacific Rim au.

I am sooooooooooooooo obsessed with this one

“So, this is her,” Kanan said, gazing at the massive Jaeger in front of him. “The Phantom Eclipse.”

He’d seen Hera Syndulla’s Jaeger on TV approximately twice, and a few times from a distance, but never up close. He’d never really had the opportunity. But now? Now, if the test was anything to judge by— and it was— they were drift compatible. So Kanan figured it was logical enough that he got a good look at his new ride.

It was a Mark-4, and therefore nicer than anything he’d ever piloted. The Jaeger he’d piloted alongside his mother, the Beacon Instinct, had been a Mark-2, and the Kasmiri Escape had been a Mark-3 before a kaiju had torn it to shreds. Feeling a twinge of nostalgic sorrow, Kanan redirected his attention to the Phantom.

The Jaeger towered above them, the silvery gray metal gleaming proudly. Scattered across the limbs and torso, however, were bright splotches— paintings, Kanan realized.

Stepping closer, he studied the nearest one— a phoenix, red-gold wings flaring across the metal of the Jaeger’s leg. It wasn’t the only one of its kind. In fact, he spotted several of the birds, including one soaring across the chest. Above it was a black circle, white-gold lines of lines curving around the rim and out from the edge. An eclipse, Kanan realized.

“That’s Sabine’s work,” Hera said from behind him. Kanan cast a quick glance over his shoulder. His new co-pilot stood with her arms folded, her expression calmly neutral as she watched him. “I don’t think you’ve met her yet— she works in J-tech. Mainly a weapons expert, but she’s an artist, too. She asked me if she could do a little work on Phantom, and, well, it turned into a lot of work.”

“I’m impressed,” Kanan said, studying the artwork for another minute. “She’s good at what she does.”

“She’ll be glad to hear you say that.” Hera’s voice held a hint of pleasure— clearly, she liked hearing Sabine praised. They must have been close. Kanan made a mental note to meet this Sabine as he turned to face Hera.

The pilot lifted an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

Kanan knew exactly what she was asking. “She’s stunning,” he told Hera.

A smile spread across Hera’s face, warm and open, and Kanan knew without a doubt that he was done. There was no way he could pick up the pieces after she smiled at him like that. “Good,” she said.

[master-skywalker-01]

Ahsoka: A Return to Star Wars

Ahsoka Tano is my favorite Star Wars character, she’s Filoni’s best addition to the Star Wars cast, and as she is his baby, she's mine too. I was worried for how the new show would treat her, but having seen The Clone Wars movie, tv show, and Rebels, I trusted Dave Filoni. It was rightly placed trust. Watching this show, for me, felt like watching the prequels again. The lightsaber fights we’re fast paced, the characters held an air of mystery, and Thrawn was perfect. 

Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati are the most interesting new characters since Lady Tano herself. Introduced with little dialogue, Baylan makes it clear they are neither Jedi nor Sith. He refers to them as something more when speaking with Shin, saying “You, I trained to be more”. Baylan, once on Peridea, loses interest in the Jedi and thrown, revealing to his apprentice that he searched for something greater than what Thrawn and the Great Mothers could offer. 

He gives Shin a choice near the end of the show, to turn Sabine and Ezra over to Thrawn, take her place in the coming war, with a silent offer to stay written between the lines. Shin, of course, less trained and less trusting in the force and her master, chooses to join Thrawn. A fight ensues between her, some night troopers, and our Jedi Padawans. 

Which brings me to Sabine and Ezra. Neither had been my favorites in Rebels, I had attached to Ahsoka, Chopper, and Hera. In this new show, I love these characters. Sabine, struggles with trust, the force, her feelings towards Ezra, and finding her footing with Ahsoka. She slowly does and by the end uses the force through trust. Erza, in my opinion, was hard headed, and slightly annoying in Rebels, but in Ahsoka he’s funny, light-hearted, wiser, and much more like Kanan than I was expecting. His interactions with Huyang were wholesome, and the twin emitter to Kanan’s was a good touch.

Hera, Chopper and Jacen. My little Syndulla family hold the number two spot in my heart. Hera was snappy, strong-willed, open, and a great mother. Jacen was Adorable, and alot like his father, I would love to get to know the force sensitive, half twi-lek more. And as always Chopper was the greatest little criminal, snappy, and funny. 

Now, moving to the namesake of the show, Ahsoka. When she was introduced, she was an annoying, stuck-up, fourteen year old. She wasn’t liked much by the fandom, but Dave Filoni, as always, had a plan and slowly, with the audience, Ahsoka would mature, she gets two lightsabers, listens to Anakin more, faces hardship, and eventually left the Jedi order. As she grew after Order 66, Ahsoka became clouded and unbalanced. We watch her grow more fearful and secluded as she ages, even as she aids the rebellion, and it all comes to a head in Ahsoka.

Ahsoka fights Baylan and Shin much like Anakin fought Obi-wan, pushing forward attacking, even force-chocking and throwing Shin. Ultimately, as it had been Anakin’s, Ahsoka’s brute force is her downfall (literally). She loses the fight, and is knocked off the cliffside by Skoll, into the water. In the water, Ahsoka is pulled into the World Between Worlds where she finds Anakin, there to teach her one last lesson, live or die. Then, Hayden Christen, Anakin Skywalker himself fights his apprentice for the 3rd time.

This fight was beautifully choreographed, and executed, it was quick, fierce, charged, and all around an amazing duel between master and padawan, as is the Star Wars tradition. Just this was incredible, and I wasn’t ready when we went to the unknown regions for the first time in canon history.

Peridea was the last thing I expected, and even though we’d left our main Star Wars galaxy, everything was still so Star Wars. The Great Mothers, The Chimera, The Night Troopers, Morgan becoming a magical nightsister. I was blown away, yet everything gave me the same feeling as the 1977 classics, and the 2000’s prequels. This is how Star Wars is supposed to feel in my mind, and Ahsoka did it perfectly. 

All I can hope for now is two separate stories, Dave Filoni’s, Heir to The Empire movie to be about our regular Galaxy with Hera, Ezra, The Mandalorians, and Luke. Then a different story, on Peridea with Ahsoka, Sabine, Shin, and Baylan, in Ahsoka season 2. That would be the perfect way to continue this amazing love letter to Star Wars and the Star Wars fans. 

~Leia-Marie Jones~

[eriexplosion]

5, 12, and 21 for the choosing violence asks please

Below the cut for length again!

5. Worst blorboficiation?

I already answered this one in the last ask but this is Star Wars so I of course have MORE to offer. Second worse blorbofication I think is Fives, like a lottttt of the clones have a ton of fanon about them but they're such bit parts in canon that it isn't a big deal. Fives though I think is super stereotyped into the Wild Kind of Stupid and Reckless one to contrast with Echo and it does his actual canon personality SO much injustice. Our man's fucking smart! He's a fucking ARC trooper! He is the single person to have ever figured out about the chips ahead of time! I hateeee him being pushed into the party boy box that he often gets shoved into.

12. Name a common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing.

TBB fandom can have. Shall we say. A problem with any sort of subtle characterization. If I never again have to hear someone say that Hunter doesn't show emotion especially... But it's like if they don't have long talks where they expressly say "I AM FEELING SAD" people pretend it's not happening. It's like every tell for how they're feeling gets ignored and then when they act on the implications of what we've seen it's like everyone assumes it came out of nowhere. Like I said, Hunter gets it the worst but EVERYONE suffers from it.

(Which speaking of complaints on things coming out of nowhere: TECH/PHEE DID NOT NEED A TON OF LEADUP TO CLUE THE VIEWER IN TO WHY THEY MIGHT FLIRT, THEY HAVE BARELY STARTED MAKING MOVES ON EACH OTHER. I AM SHAKING FANDOM BY THE SHOULDERS.)

21. Best canon example of a healthy relationship in Star Wars?

Honestly I don't know that there can be an answer other than Hera/Kanan, neither of them went evil or insane, no one was hiding any UNFATHOMABLE SECRETS, they just actually like and care about each other with no big bumps in that. They're having a fine time until the Events Of Jedi Night!

[chocobothis]

Tag Game: Star Wars

Thank you for the tag @synthwwavve

ride or die ship (your otp): BoPre because they’re terrible and it’s amazing. But, for minimum effort reading (i.e. least likely to piss me off without careful vetting) it’s JangObi.

most annoying ship: NiteArmor. It’s just boring even though it should have my usual Toxic Mess Appeal.

second favourite ship: Kanera! Really Hera Anyone Literally became a massive Star Wars fan because of Rebels and Hera.

favourite platonic relationship: Din & Grogu because it’s such an interesting driving force in the series.

underrated ship: BoFennec. I think they have a lot in common that could make for some interesting ideas. A few fics I’ve seen with it I really enjoyed it. 

overrated ship: DinLuke. It was fine until people made it turned it into one of my more hated ships. 

one thing i would change in canon: The first episode of The Bad Batch doesn’t feature Kanan. Everything about the Kanan Origin comics was infinitely better. I straight up thought that kid was Cal Kestis at first.

something canon did right: Fennec Shand leading the The Book of Boba Fett with Boba. Everything about how they play off each other is gold. Neither of them know what they’re doing with being Crime Lords. Boba tells her not to touch buttons in his ship even though she saved them from the damn Sarlaac Pit.

a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom: Do you want to see someone do the Charlie Day Meme about Mandalorians? It’s me. I do that and I’m proud of it. I need to get better at actually posting them. But, I have so much lore built up for the various factions, how they interplay, what happened off screen, etc.

a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Hera Syndulla <3

the character i relate to the most and why: Ahsoka! I absolutely will throwdown for the right things, would love Plo Koon as a father figure, and lbr I wanna have whatever she’s got going on Bo-Katan. I’m better at acting but that’s not really a high bar.

character(s) i hate the most and why: Dogma. He’s a mid tier clone at best and most of his fans annoy the ever living fuck out of me. Maybe if they actually did something more with him after the Umbara Arc i.e. show me something cool like him being pulled in close to Palpatine as an enforcer. Lux Bonteri for being the most Average CisHet Man that out lived his story use. My gods, he could’ve just died on Carlaac but no. He hangs around until into Battlefront, at least. Instead, he’s hanging around as the most boring fanboy project onto me bait ever.

something i've learned from the fandom: No matter how obscure a character is there’s at least one person who loves them. It’s like finding people who love the most random Pokemon.

three tags i seek out on ao3: Honestly, I go tend to go for whatever sounds interesting by the summary/tags. The things I tend to enjoy are found family, various What If... AUs, and smut fics that go heavy on the aftercare because there’s some Peak Tender Moment Options.

a song i strongly associate with my otp/ favourite character: Song #3 by Stone Sour (It’s Prime Kanera but like give me a chance and I can work it into various ships.)

I’m tagging @thebisexualmandalorian, @raccooncityriots, and whoever wants to jump in!

[rebelresolve]

“How come dad didn’t love us enough to stay alive?”

@arandomnerdsrp358 Jacen and Hera

She knew he was just trying to rile her up, but stars above if that didn't do it. Hera grit her teeth, taking a deep breath and turning away before she said something she'd regret. He really was Kanan's child; no one else knew just how to get on her nerves like that.

"Jacen. If your father didn't do what he did, neither of us would be here today. It was because he loved us that he did what he did."

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

The idea that Kanan was somehow rejecting the teachings of the Order by being in a relationship with Hera is just... A weird take. As is the idea that the Council or any other Master would have disapproved had they been alive to see it.

There's plenty of instances of Hera and Kanan showing they're both ready to protect innocent people or carry out important missions no matter what, and they both know how to go on without the other, and Kanan specifically asks Ezra to plan the mission to rescue Hera because he knows his own judgment is clouded by his emotions. That's not rejecting Jedi teachings, that's like Jedi 101 - How To Romance, Done Right. That just about screams 'I know love is both powerful and dangerous and I'm making sure I know when and how to let go, and especially let go of my need to control the situation.' If we were meant to think Kanan was angsting over his relationship, or was giving the """"attachment rule"""" the finger, you'd think that would have come up at any point, but it didn't. Kanan's issues with reconnecting with his past as a Jedi were fear and self-doubt, not 'I dOn'T thInk atTAchEmENt iS bAD AcsHUaLLy aNd tHe OrdER waS wROnG'

(Fear and self-doubt that he faces when he takes Ezra as his apprentice, which allows him to connect with Yoda in the Temple of Lothal as a Jedi, and be knighted for good as a Jedi. When he takes the very last steps in reclaiming his full identity as a member of the Jedi Order, as Caleb Dume, he still kisses Hera - because his relationship with her is in no way a rejection of his roots.)

But maybe he wasn't rejecting the old teachings but rather improving them? Because he understands how to balance romance and the Jedi way, and he could have had that even as a PT era Jedi because he just gets it, and the well-meaning but blind Order would have changed their rules after seeing the light? Like... No. The one reason why he can be in a committed relationship with Hera when he couldn't have had that as a Jedi living within the Order is so simple guys - there is no longer an Order to be essentially married to. Kanan is basically living Obi-Wan's year on the run as his whole life, but there's no Temple to come back to, and no Republic he's sworn his life to as a neutral diplomat/peacekeeper waiting for him. To push the metaphor to an outrageous degree, Kanan's fiancé died before the wedding and so he's free to remarry. There's no neutrality to uphold, there's no Republic missions to go on leaving his spouse behind, there's no longer hundreds of younglings to teach and take care of as a community, there's no longer a Temple to maintain, there are none of the duties of communal living. Kanan and Hera's relationship working so well isn't a gotcha to the Jedi who came before him, it's different circumstances.

But finally, the idea that the PT era Masters would either begrudge him the happiness or go "oh yeah, attachment is good actually, why didn't we ever consider it?" is dumb, big time. How do I know that? Because we do see a Jedi reacting to Kanan's new life - Yoda. And how does he react to Kanera? He doesn't. Because it's not the point of Kanan story and has never been, and if it was something that would have been a point of contention to him or any other Jedi, it'd have been presented as such, but it never was. Most Prequels Jedi we know would be happy that Kanan found a strong, supportive, loving partner to help him through all these years spent hiding and running, and it'd change diddly squat about the way the Order works.

Like, seriously, there's no need to 'question whether attachment is good' for a Jedi to be happy about Kanan and Hera - they aren't Anakin and Padmé. It's totally different circumstances, handled well.

[leafycasper]

So, I’ve been working on this for a hot second and I just finished it today. I’m honestly so happy with how these turned out! I found the template on Pinterest. I loved doing different sport challenges and templates lately, it’s a fun way to mix things up. Also these are some of my top ships and I love making art for them.