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thrawns-backrest · 1 year

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Satellites

Pairing: Galen Erso/Orson Krennic (pre-relationship, can be read as platonic), also Krennic is still a teen here so any romantic feelings are one sided

A little thing I wrote for these two during their time in the Futures Program. Tagging @russiandeathcup and @enaelyork because I think you might be interested in this :) enaelyork, my headcanons are a bit different from yours but I hope I managed to capture the essence of these two nonetheless!

I cut some corners with editing so please excuse me if it's a bit of a mess lol. Finally, all the science stuff is made up as per star wars tradition ___

Waking up was a laborious experience.

But then again, Orson Krennic surmised, he probably wasn’t doing himself any favors by falling asleep the way he did. Raising a hand to rub at eyes that were crusted shut he felt around to check for any additional presences in bed with him and immediately there was a groan to his right while someone else wriggled in dismay. Orson grinned.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had passed out before he could summon the good sense to get back to his room.

With some of his good cheer restored he flexed his neck and cracked open an eye to survey some of his previous night's partymates sprawled over each other on the single bed, all in various states of disarray.

The room itself was a similar mess and reeked of alcohol but that was a given since it was the kind of night he barely remembered anything of. And as much as he wanted to sleep the rest of his hangover off (not as bad as last time, he was getting better at this), there was a steady stream of sunlight coming through the window and, well, Orson Krennic had better things to do with his day.

Like making sure there was another pleasant end to it, like last night's.

So he ran a hand through his hair, said a quick prayer of thanks for the lack of any vomit in sight and began the long process of extricating himself from the bed, whispering a quick apology to the girl lying half on top of him as she groaned again.

Some patting down fixed the worst of his uniform and after fishing around for a bit, he managed to find his jacket and tug it out from under one of the senior years before slipping his boots on.

He made a point of tucking his pant legs inside – a personal if unusual style choice but he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those ugly uniforms without a few tweaks – and before long he was off, striding out into the bright sunlight of Brentaal.

The building he’d somehow found himself in last night turned out to be unfamiliar but a quick jog to the nearest busy walkway had him back on track. Half a year of gallivanting to his heart’s content had ensured he knew most of the grounds like the back of his hand.

And it certainly had its perks.

From his new starting point, he was able to weave his way between dorm buildings, labs and lecture halls until he was at his own dorm complex, bright and gleaming right at the very heart of campus. Normally these buildings were reserved for the cream of the academic crop but in reality most of the people here were simply well connected, much like Orson who had his own wonderful uncle to thank for his placement.

Money, as it turned out, opened a lot more doors than test results. But Orson wasn’t so big of a fool as to underestimate the opportunities the Futures Program offered all by itself.

There was a queue for the turbolifts inside and he bypassed them to get to the stairs. Another trick he’d learned in his time here as this particular stairway connected to the professors’ living wing and he shot one of his instructors a grin on the way up, getting an eye roll and the faintest of smiles in response. A few more weeks, give or take, and he would have them all charmed, he was sure of it.

Level six was buzzing with activity which wasn’t all too unusual despite it being the middle of the day, with classes having long started. At first glance, the Program took itself more than a little seriously but in reality the people that ran the whole thing were well aware that they were as much a university as a daycare center for the kids of the various bourgeoisie that sponsored them. That, combined with the fact that its occasional sundry geniuses were better off left to their own devices, made for a pretty lively atmosphere, especially at this time of day and Orson couldn’t really complain about it.

On the contrary, the whole thing was suffused with a level of charm he couldn’t deny. Not least of all as a fifteen-year-old hungry for novelty and socialization.

Currently though his mind was set on a shower and some breakfast, maybe with a side of painkillers, and he was well on his way to getting them when he had to pause and do a double take.

He stood there for a couple of seconds staring at the open hatch.

This was Galen’s room, his mind supplied vaguely while the currents of hallway traffic flowed around him. So why was the door open?

Cautiously, Orson looked around before taking a few steps forward. The noise from outside became muffled as he entered the small corridor with adjacent fresher that led into the room itself.

Had someone broken in while Galen was away? Though not many did, his friend was definitely the type to get harassed and Orson wondered if this wasn’t some elaborate prank meant to do just that.

His next thought was that Galen, in his typical distracted fashion, had forgotten to close the door behind him when he’d gone out that morning though Orson had to admit that was a bit much, even for Galen.

Reality as it turned out was unfortunately not too far from that.

Orson felt his body slump in both amusement and relief when he finally rounded the corner, glancing deeper into the room.

As lo and behold there was Galen himself, pacing in front of the bed under the far window where a shrine of notes and a few screens lay scattered in artful disarray. His friend’s face was contorted in its usual pensive grimace as he wrestled with the numbers on some piece of flimsi, mouth moving silently as though struggling to follow the flow of his own thoughts.

It was such a profound display, Orson almost felt bad for interrupting it.

“Hey,” He leaned against the wall casually as Galen’s eyes snapped up to him. He seemed confused for a moment before finally realizing who was standing there in the middle of the room with him.

“Orson.” Galen frowned, distracted. “Did you need anything?”

“You tell me, you invited me here.”

This seemed to confuse Galen even more.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Orson jabbed a thumb in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re inviting everyone in, in fact.”

He mentally counted the seconds while Galen’s brain switched gears and then watched the disgruntlement on his face slowly melt into sheepishness.

“Ah, I must have forgotten to close it when I…right.” Galen mumbled and it took all of Orson’s willpower not to grin. He could envision it now, Galen in a rush to get to the nearest available datapad, practically vibrating with the urge to hunker down and tackle the onslaught of thoughts that were spiraling towards critical mass.

“They should put sensors on these things,” Orson heard him mutter as he threw aside the piece of flimsi, heading for the door.

If only the world were designed for scatterbrains like you, is what he thought to himself privately, suppressing another grin. A hand on Galen’s chest stopped him from getting any further.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” Orson nodded with a wink and sure enough, by the time he was back from that impressively short trip, Galen was already hunched over on his bed, staring a hole through his notes and twisting some poor tortured pen in his fingers as he muttered to himself.

Orson made himself comfortable at the other end and leaned back against the headboard as he watched his friend work. For how unusual it was, it was hardly the first time they found themselves in this position. With Galen chipping away at the mysteries of the universe while Orson sat quietly to the side, immersing himself in the peaceful atmosphere of it all and letting his mind drift.

It had become a sort of therapy for him, embarrassingly enough. And it didn’t help that Galen didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, going so far as to make room for him on whatever surface he’d perched himself on. Either that or he didn’t notice Orson at all and accommodated him on autopilot but Orson found that he didn’t mind either way.

This morning the ritual was particularly productive in chasing away the lingering dregs of his hangover and Orson almost found himself drifting off to sleep when he was rudely awoken by the growl of his own stomach.

“You should get something to eat,” Galen said offhandedly, in that way that implied he was on autopilot again.

Orson was just about to agree, reluctantly, when Galen spoke again, directing him to the fridge. Orson felt his brow furrow.

“You have food here?” he asked in disbelief as Galen waved a dismissive hand.

“I stock up at the end of every week.”

Somewhat caught off guard, Orson pondered that for a moment but then decided that he could envision it. Making an unwilling but necessary trip to one of the campus stores and stocking up with a precisely calculated amount of rations to get him through the week was a very Galen thing indeed. It must take some effort, after all, to be this much of a recluse.

Which raised the question…

“Well, I don’t want to eat your food if it means you’ll starve.” Orson frowned but his worries were met with the same dismissal.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The look on Galen’s face indicated that he had already moved on from the conversation and so despite his hesitation Orson decided that he may as well make use of the offer. It was either that or scour his room for whatever instameal scraps or junk food he hadn’t managed to devour in his drunken stupors and right now that sounded decidedly unappealing.

He got up and padded to Galen’s fridge, opening it to find just what he expected. A small stack of granola bars that he quickly calculated to correspond to three meals per every remaining day of the week.

He shook his head. Galen was a good foot taller than him (the disadvantages of being a teenager and late to his last growth spurt) and this was a pathetic amount of food for him. If it weren’t for the occasional lunch Orson knew Galen’s professors sometimes dragged him out to, he may have been worried. As it was, he simply grabbed the nearest bar and went back to reclaim his spot on the bed.

At the very least, his stomach was grateful for the bland breakfast.

After eating his food as quietly as possible (Galen didn’t like noise while he concentrated), he returned to his earlier state of meditative relaxation. Until at some point he noticed Galen’s face twitch and an ever so subtle change occur in it.

Anyone else might have missed it but Orson had always been observant and part of that entailed being able to discern the differences in Galen’s seemingly passive expressions. He could tell, quite reliably by now, when Galen’s thoughts were racing behind those narrowed eyes and when they had hit a wall. And just now his train of thought had come to a screeching halt.

“Orson, can I ask you something?” Galen muttered after a while and Orson nodded lazily from his spot.

“Mhm, shoot.”

His friend then proceeded to bombard him with two increasingly complicated hypotheses that Orson did his best to follow despite failing miserably by the end. Nonetheless he paid close attention to Galen’s every word, the gestures and diagrams he drew in the air around him as he weaved complex science jargon together.

“So what do you think?” Galen asked hopefully at the end of it all, looking at Orson as though he genuinely believed he could be the solution to his problem. A rather flattering if overly optimistic thought.

Never let it be said that Orson Krennic didn’t come through in a pinch however.

“Here’s the deal,” Orson started, “I understood a fraction of the first one and nothing of the second so it must be that one.”

The explanation didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of agreeing Galen looked oddly contrite all of a sudden.

“Come now, Orson, don’t be like that…” he mumbled and Orson could practically feel the regret radiating off him. So worried that he’d somehow made Orson feel inadequate by getting carried away.

Orson shook his head mentally, allowing himself a little lopsided smirk.

For all that Galen was a plank of wood when it came to tact sometimes and for all that he outstripped most people here in terms of intelligence by light-years, being friends with him could be a surprisingly self-affirming experience. Orson doubted, for one, that anyone cared as much about his feelings and self-esteem as Galen Erso did.

But that wasn’t the point here and Orson hurried to put them back on track.

“No, I’m being serious. Think about it, I have a basic understanding of advanced chemistry and physics, about as good as the average first year around here, and if I was able to get what you were talking about then it only makes sense that someone has already thought of, tested it and proved that it doesn’t work.”

He shrugged and leaned back against the headboard. “It’s just statistical probability.”

This time his wors seemed to get through to Galen and his friend sat there contemplating it for a moment before finally accepting it for what it was.

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded with a rare smile. “Though I’m not necessarily happy with the reasoning behind it. Thank you, Orson.”

Orson responded with a grin of his own.

“Hey, if nothing else, I’m good at pointing geniuses in the right direction. I have a nose for it.” He stopped as though actually considering it.

“You know, you should probably hire me to do it full time for you. I can see myself with a career like that.”

Galen huffed, already going back to his notes.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He stuck around for a while after until the urge to change into clean clothes and eat a proper meal finally won out and he left Galen to his silent scribbling.

Later that evening found him ambling down a decidedly more deserted campus with one hand nestled in his jacket pocket and the other loosely holding to the top of a flimsi bag. It was that odd transitional hour when students had already gone home from class and the more avid party goers had yet to spill out into the streets.

The majority were probably still winding down while others were stuck doing last minute work on their assignments.

Orson, being the only master of his own schedule, was on a mission instead.

He trekked the familiar route from the foyer up to the sixth level, bypassing the turbolifts even when there was no queue outside, and stopped in front of Galen’s room to knock. Moments later he heard shuffling inside which was a promising sign as Galen probably wouldn’t have heard him at all if he was in one of his trances.

The door opened to reveal a mussed looking Galen who squinted at him in confusion.

Nevertheless, he quickly moved out of the way when Orson pushed past him to get into the room.

“I’ve got something important to show you, come on.”

The urgency in his voice must have piqued Galen’s interest because he closed the door and shuffled after him without a second thought, probably thinking it was another gadget Orson had lifted from the lab or some other scientific curiosity.

Orson took advantage of it and dropped his bag on the desk Galen had repurposed as an impromptu lab station, stepping back to let Galen open it. His friend’s face instantly drained of excitement as he revealed what was inside.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled in confusion, staring at the plastic containers and their contents.

Orson snorted.

“Of course you don’t. This,” He pointed at the bag. “is real food. And it’s probably the first time you’re seeing any.”

He let the smirk he’d been disguising finally crawl over his face and took extra joy in the exasperation mixed with grudging embarrassment that bloomed over Galen’s.

And real food it certainly was because Orson didn’t cut any corners. He hadn’t scouted every food place in and around campus, making sure not to get too inebriated in the process, for nothing. If you wanted the best food in radius of two klicks, Orson Krennic was your guy.

Even Galen, seemingly convinced by the smell of freshly grilled vegetables and meat, didn’t complain about his antics for once and they both sat down to eat what was unmistakably better than a chalky granola bar.

In the course of wiping their respective containers clean, they talked about Galen’s research. It was rare to see Galen this animated and Orson studied the reaction as his friend rambled about dead ends and insufficient data.

“I need to do this in a lab,” Galen said, scraping the bottom of his container with his chopsticks. “The geology hall here has a databank on Darellian crystals and a physics simulator built into the display console. If I could use that along with some of the research logged into the databanks, this whole thing would go much faster.”

Orson had been quietly following along, already feeling the inklings of a plan coming together.

“You know what,” he said after a while, “you might be able to do just that.”

It was already dark by the time they ventured out into the cobbled tree-lined walkways. Precious minutes remained until the place was crowded but Galen still clamped a hand over Orson’s mouth, silencing his cackling, when he boldly announced they were once again about to witness the talents of the great Orson Krennic. Orson considered it a personal achievement that he could get stuffy Galen Erso to follow along in his antics.

If he were to give himself even more credit, he would even say that was a smile playing on Galen’s lips.

Convincing the hall’s security guard to let them in was much easier in comparison. Especially when Orson was notorious for wheedling extra lab time for his projects from their professors. Inside, he took a seat on one of the front row benches and once again found himself in that same meditative state as before as Galen flicked between the holoboard and simulation projector, occasionally flipping through an ancient-looking flimsi booklet and scribbling unintelligible notes on the board.

In the meantime, Orson asked himself when he had become so fascinated with Galen. And the answer, frankly, was almost immediately after he’d first seen him.

It’d been during a joined physics class, with freshmen and senior years from all over the Program, when the professor had called on Orson to give an answer to one of the problems. Ever the performer, Orson had detached one of the microscopes’ digital magnifiers and climbed onto the table to spy the answer on the professor’s datapad much to the whole hall’s amusement.

After the excitement had died down the professor had turned to Galen, drawing Orson’s attention for the first time to the tall quiet student at the back of the hall. Galen had given a quick detailed response without even looking up from his datapad and though his odd demeanor hadn’t garnered nearly as much attention, Orson had felt a brief pinch of annoyance at what he perceived as having his spotlight stolen.

That feeling had quickly given way to curiosity however as he kept shooting discreet glances at Galen for the rest of the class. The rest was just a matter of approaching him after the lecture and slowly worming his way into Galen’s awareness until the latter had been forced to admit defeat and relinquish some of his self-imposed solitude.

Orson was nothing if not persistent and Galen – too polite to nip his growing advances in the bud. And given enough time, Orson could make himself agreeable to anyone as he’d been able to prove with Galen.

Which led them to the present moment, with Galen so inured to his presence and casual favors that he allowed him to loiter nearby while he worked – Galen, who valued his personal space more than anything – and regularly updated him on his progress.

It was strange if you thought about it too much. Orson himself couldn’t explain what drew him to Galen in the first place. He’d always thought it was the ostentatious types for him, the loud and exuberant, the ones he could compete with for attention and follow into mischief and glory. Yet there they were, as balanced a duo as you could get.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Galen murmured as if reading his thoughts and Orson watched him get down from the podium to flip a few more pages on his booklet. He scribbled a few more notes on his datapad and pursed his lips in thought.

“Orson could you do these calculations for me, I need this to go faster.”

That brought Orson’s reverie to a stumbling halt and he blinked at Galen, almost panicked.

“Me?” he asked in disbelief. “Doing your calculations? Don’t be ridiculous, Galen, you should just input them into a computer.”

Galen glared at him from his spot at the lecturer’s desk. “That would take too much time. Besides, it’s just some Tivix equations, I know you can handle that.”

Orson was about to protest but Galen was already walking back to the holoboard and opening another window to scribble on.

“I don’t know who convinced you you’re stupid Orson,” he said, his back still turned to him, “but you’re not. You should know better than that.”

The rudimentary protest died on Orson’s tongue and he felt his throat constrict as the meaning of Galen’s words registered in his mind. Finding himself utterly speechless, he averted his eyes to the table in front of him, unable to help it.

Not ‘stupid’, his mind corrected mechanically, but rather not smart enough.

For a horrifying moment, he had the suspicion that Galen had seen right through him there and then. All those times he had avoided doing things the right way, finding roundabout methods and tricks to get the result he wanted rather than tackling the problem head on. Did Galen know what lay beneath it? The crippling fear of inadequacy that Orson fought so hard to suppress?

The lengths he went to to avoid finding out just how incapable he really was?

Did Galen know about all of it?

Orson swallowed heavily, trying to bring his thoughts back under control.

Then tentatively, he got up and walked over to the datapad Galen had left to display a few rows of glowing numbers and barely legible notes.

He’d never thought he would graduate the program. Just like many of the students here, he had never entered it with the intention of getting all the way through. He was just like the people he partied with, careless and enjoying the brief stint of freedom their parents had bought for them to get them out of their hair or add some vague prestigious credentials to their name. Everyone knew the program was filled with people like that.

Orson himself had yearned for the chance to escape his guardians’ supervision, obsessed with the notion of complete independence and the chance of making new contacts. His doting uncle and aunt had been indulgent in allowing him that but nobody had actually ever believed anything would come out of it.

Orson was flighty. Frivolous. Given to indulgence. Things he had long come to terms with and didn’t feel too strongly about to change. He was quick-witted and perceptive, sure, and he had the head to make decent progress in his studies but his future was in politics and public services much like his uncle’s. It was a step down from what he’d always wanted but after some deliberation he had agreed there was ample opportunity there.

Now though, slowly going through Galen’s equations to the sound of his friend’s muttering, he wondered if there wasn’t still a chance for him. That maybe, if someone like Galen saw potential in him, there was a point in at least trying…

Galen wasn’t necessarily a good judge of character but he was surprisingly good at telling what was worth his time and what wasn’t. And if he had tolerated Orson so far, not to mention involving him in his research, then if not his own judgement, perhaps Orson could trust Galen’s. After all it was only fair given how often Galen had taken a leap of faith for him.

Galen was, at the end of the day, an exceptional man. Orson could tell better than anyone. If Galen’s instincts were attuned to the invisible currents of numbers and data, Orson had the same aptitude for telling where the seeds of greatness lied.

That greatness was sure to germinate in Galen and who knows, swept along in its tide maybe Orson could reach new heights as well. Ones that he had never dared hope for before.

Tentatively taking hold of that thought, he let his fingers glide more confidently over the surface of the screen.

Yes, there was merit in giving this a go, he decided privately. And even if he did fail, Orson thought taking one long look at the sure line of Galen’s profile against the glow of the holoboard, at least he would have basked in Galen’s light for a little bit longer.

And he couldn’t find himself objecting to that.

#orson krennic #director krennic #galen erso #galennic #rogue one #star wars rogue one #can be read as platonic or romantic

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lifblogs · 7 months

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Number 10 from the Whump Ask game

10. What is your favorite whumpy story you have written?

Since I was asked this already and answered with Supernatural fics, I'm gonna go with Star Wars! This is so fun.

Peace and Attachment

During a battle on Brentaal IV, a gunship crashes, severely injuring Obi-Wan and giving him a brush with death.

Can You Hear Me?

Anakin is caught too close to an explosion during a battle, leaving him severely injured.

I picked these for their highly intense whump, multiple injuries, and whumpy caretaking! I need to give these a proper read through again. So fun.

#ask #primroseprime2019 #ask game #whump #star wars #fanfiction

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whippedcloudsofcream · 2 years

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Rant for this Fucking Issue Below

Look, I know mistreatment of Luke and the lady characters in Star Wars is an absolute given, but this one has seriously annoyed me as of recently. They did my gurl Shaak Ti so badly in this one shot comic, I need to get this utter hatred out of my system. This big rant is just my personal opinion and pure hating of some obscure non canon media.

Quick summary. Shaak Ti, Quinlan Vos, and her loyal clones are on a mission to stop some massacre by Dooku and his new crony on some planet called Brentaal. Shaak Ti finds out the Dooku Crony is somewhere on some prison building. She, Quinlan Vos, and her clones storm the building. Shaak Ti finds out that, of course, one of the people that survived the Separatist Prison Massacre is Lyshaa, the scum that killed her only Padawan, Fe Sun (technically Shaak Ti’s adopted daughter). They’re all forced to work together with Shaak Ti promising Lyshaa’s freedom if the mission is completed.

Lyshaa is an absolute piece of shit the entire time and while Shaak Ti is a graceful character, the edges of her tolerance are pushed as she is forced to deal with the immature, mediocre woman that took her padawan away from her.

Not surprisingly, Lyshaa betrays Shaak Ti and the others and sides with Dooku’s Crony. However, Shaak Ti, being the badass she is, makes quick work of him and stops the massacre. (Look at that smirk of hers when she shoots Shaak Ti. God, I wanted to brick her head.)

Appallingly, Lyshaa gets the last laugh by giving herself a painless and quick death before Shaak Ti can reach her.

In the end, Shaak Ti sits with Plo Koon, concerned and saddened about what war and trauma have been doing to her.

I have So Many complaints about this issue. Let me just get the easiest ones off my chest.

• More Anti-Jedi propaganda. The people of Brentaal are heinously suffering because of Dooku and his little henchman, but the prisoners and population on the planet choose to blame the Jedi instead because somehow their involvement made everything “worse” and their arrival to help forces the planet to become a Republic government. How that is “worse” than Dooku massacring the entire planet and draining it of resources is beyond me.

• Awful treatment and intense mischaracterization of the clones and how they are treated by the Jedi. The clones are subtly shown to be at odds with the decisions of Shaak Ti and Vos throughout the issue. Despite this, they speak civilly to them and the Clones are fiercely loyal. But the Jedi disregard their names and instead just call all of the Clones, Trooper?? They also allow other characters to hatefully speak to them and treat them poorly. As for the Clones, they are constantly in sour moods and say Roger for some reason. Most likely in an effort to make them similar to Separatist droids and hint at their “lack of autonomy under the Jedi.”🙄🙄

Lastly, the most unattractive and annoying quality of this issue is the soggy side antagonist Lyshaa. Lyshaa is supposed to be some sexy, evil foil of Shaak Ti who apparently gives her a run for her money. She hilariously fails this in almost every single aspect. Let’s start out with the more petty stabs to Shaak Ti’s character with Lyshaa as her “competition.” Insanely, the comic tips the scales to Lyshaa’s favor, not just from her state of dress and visual appearance, but down to her demeanor and predicament.

Right from the beginning, there is already a stark contrast between Shaak Ti and Lyshaa visually. Shaak Ti with her dark eyes, red skin, blue and white montrals/lekku, and her body mostly covered in heavy brown cloaks and skirts. Meanwhile, Lyshaa has pink skin, pink hair, purple eyes, bright yellow cropped tank top, and blue pants. Lyshaa is also flirtatious and dangerous. Constantly with a fugly smirk. Putting her fingers on her ass-chin or lips in an attempt to be coy and sensual, paired with gratuitous ass and tit shots. The artists and writers are working overtime to make sure you know she’s the “More Attractive” one. They push this story detail with such obsession, but it just ends up hilariously backfiring. The Manipulative Sexy Femme Fatale trope is ruined and overturned in every way for Lyshaa.

The effort put into the artwork to make Lyshaa look sexy, ends up making her look absolutely horrendous. Yes, she shows skin. Yes, her eyes are a pretty purple. She always gives that smirk and “Did I do that? Oooh I’m so Bad.” expression with her fingers tapping and touching her face. But the colors of her outfit are terrible and clash with her tone. Bright wet floor sign yellow, toilet cleaner blue, and flushed pink skin that looks like it’s seen better days. The attempt to make her stand out of the grimy backgrounds, make her something alluring, instead makes her an absolute eyesore. This costume design is wrapped around a hilariously contorted body to make sure the reader can see Lyshaa is sexy at all times, with her pretty eyes and crazy, hot grin.

As you can see in the panels above, they focus so much on that smirking grin and those pretty eyes, it makes the rest of face weirdly look out of proportion. Her forehead is constantly the size of mount rushmore and her ass-chin is so overly pronounced, they’re all you can fucking look at. Shaak Ti is arguably strange as a pure alien, but has an elegance to her features. Her montrals and long lekku balance them out, give them a form of regality. Lyshaa is supposed to be a near human Zeltron and she just looks like a mess.

Then there’s Lyshaa’s “powers.” As a Zeltron, she has the ability to manipulate individuals and push emotions, mainly through skin contact. Yet, another subtle inclination of her “sexual prowess.” Another stab at Shaak Ti’s lack of appeal. I think the funniest example of how this is overturned, is by this background shot of one of the comic panels. Up until this moment, nobody has fallen for Lyshaa’s tricks. Now, here she is trying to influence a Clone Trooper.

The look on his face is priceless. I can Feel the disgust radiating off of him. He’s seriously wondering why this smelly bitch is trying to flirt with him when he is more than happy to be there with Jedi Master Shaak Ti. It’s clear that her powers only work on extremely weak minded and slack willed individuals. The only person who Immediately falls for the influence of her abilities ends up being Dooku’s Crony. Now fine, sexual persuasion, that’s respectable. But Lyshaa was only able to manipulate one person the entire issue. She’s not good at getting herself out of situations she got herself into. This is seen from when Shaak Ti had to save her ungrateful ass from that laser chamber Lyshaa activated by accident (when she was trash talking Shaak Ti btw). It’s ridiculous how the comic props her up as this Dangerous and Lethal Individual.

The Only Thing that Lyshaa has going for her as some villain is that she literally is just plain evil. She likes hurting people and murdered Shaak Ti’s padawan simply for status and rubs it in her face. Only regrets not having time to savor the perks of the status. She was going to fuck Dooku’s Crony in front of Shaak Ti’s dead body. She’s fucking disgusting, that’s for sure. But then the comic Also Fails this aspect by trying to make Lyshaa into some victim of the Jedi. Tries to make the audience boo hoo at her backstory of not being respected as justifiable reasoning behind her actions. If you’re going to make someone an asshole, just keep them an asshole and then End Them Like One 🙄🙄 But once again, the comic is unsatisfactory. Lyshaa spends the entire issue being aggravating, ugly, and arrogant. Instead of sympathy, it’s visceral hatred you feel for her. The audience expects retribution, justice, but instead Lyshaa gets to decide her idiotic fate. She dies painlessly and Shaak Ti is almost Blamed for wanting Lyshaa to pay, sitting and wondering how she is “changing for the worst.”

Lyshaa is inconsistent and half assed. Pure sex fantasy, with a horrible failing on actual sex appeal and glamour. Their attempts at getting you, the reader, to take her seriously and sympathize with her are done so poorly, it’s funny as well as infuriating. What’s worse is that the artists/writers make her strut all of this in absolute confidence. Their effort to make this Memorable Femme Fatale for Shaak Ti ends up trickling to a sexless, Harley Quinn knockoff. Less iconic, less charming, less intelligent, less capable, and double the desperate try hard. All that is poorly designed and filthy as hell because she spent time rolling around in the sewers and in a rundown prison. She literally stinks. Now, if Lyshaa had achieved any level of good characterization, I most certainly would not have liked her more, but acknowledged her as an actual character worth remembering.

But instead, they just pit this classless and sloppy Loser against Shaak Ti. The Shaak Ti. I honestly believe that this was just some writer’s fetish OC that they wanted to catfight Shaak Ti for some reason. Whatever, if you’re going to do it, at least do it right. This was just sad. Shaak Ti deserved to kill that piece of shit. This isn’t anything important, at least this Legends issue isn’t canon. But it’s just another reminder of how they failed another one of my fave characters of Star Wars in one of the most heinous ways possible. That’s all. I just wanted to talk about it. Lyshaa is practically fanon, Shaak Ti is canon and, as far as we know, alive. In the end, I try to take comfort in that.

#shaak ti #my uploads #long post #i know this is messy im just writing out my thoughts #needed to vent lol

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oh-no-eu-didnt · 6 years

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Brentaal IV was a mountainous planet located in the Core at the strategically important intersection of the Hydian Way and Permelian Trade Route, two of the galaxy’s busiest hyperlanes. Brentaal IV had two large polar ice caps and multiple briny oceans. Its location made it the site of many battles over the history of the galaxy, specifically one battle during the Galactic Civil War that was a show of power between the Rebellion and Empire following the Battle of Endor. Brentaal IV had two moons.

Source: Coruscant and the Core Worlds (2003)

First Appearance: Star Wars X-Wing Rogue Squadron - In the Empire’s Service (1997)

#brentaal iv #star wars planets #galactic civil war #star wars roleplaying game #star wars #eu #expanded universe #star wars legends

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cienie-isengardu · 2 years

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Oh no! There’s people debating that s*tine kr*ze isn’t a bad person and what she did isn’t ethn!c cleansing!

https://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/674496015659859968/okay-gonna-kick-this-off-by-saying-i-wrote-up-an

You’re the resident s*tine k*ryze truther

Not sure why anyone would think I’m the resident truther of Satine Kryze about whom I rarely talk these days, which of course flatters me a lot. But also it slightly worries me as I need to speak first about the Mandalorians and their history and by doing so probably shake hard some widely accepted “knowledge” in the process of answering this ask.

Personally I do not count Satine Kryze as a villain, especially not when compared to the vast range of characters who definitely have earned this label for themselves. However Star Wars, especially in times of Twilight of the Republic and Rise of the Empire, have tons of characters who aren’t fundamentally evil but who made wrong, sometimes outright devastating choices or whose morality was compromised due to various factors. In other words, Star Wars likes deeply flawed characters. Satine is one of them as she had good intentions toward her (pacifist) people but whose serious flaws contributed to what was happening with Mandalorian culture.

If by saying Satine Kryze is responsible for ethnic cleansing people mean that one day the Duchess woke up and decided to kick out of her planet/Mandalore system everyone who doesn’t look like her, then they are wrong, at least in the light of tie-in material.

The change from warriors into New Mandalorians (pacifists) did not happen within days or decades but was happening for seven hundred years, as a result of Mandalorian Excision (738 BBY). Even before this, there were people who wanted the Mandalorian Sector to join the post-Ruusan reformed Republic and actually understood the old warriors' ways weren’t anymore safe for their economy and politics, but their voice was shut down. Republic, concerned about growing again Mandalorian military strength decided to solve the problem with devastating bombardment of the Mandalorian key worlds that turned them into wasteland.

The Republic attack was mentioned in The Essential Atlas (2008, published just before “The Mandalorian Plot”)

“After Ruusan, the Mandalorians remade themselves as a technologically adept, rigidly disciplined society. Mandalore’s growing militancy alarmed the Republic and Jedi, leading to a short, sharp war in the 730s that devastated the planet and forced another social transformation. The so-called New Mandalorians renounced the old warrior code, espousing peace, neutrality and tolerance as the only way to survive in a hostile galaxy. Mandalorian armor became a rare sight, with only a few bands of unrepentant mercs clinging to discredited clan traditions”

Then repeated in The Essential Guide to Warfare (2012), as data excerpted from [in-universe] “Industry, Honor, Savagery: Shaping the Mandalorian Soul” keynote address by Vilnau Teupt on 412th Proceedings of Galactic Anthropology and History, Brentaal Academy, 24 ABY:

“In 738 BBY the Republic created a task force made up of Judicial Forces and units drawn from Planetary Security Forces in the Expansion Region with the Jedi Order coordinating the war effort. The Mandalorian Excision was brief but overwhelming. Key Mandalorian worlds such as Fenel, Ordo, Concord Dawn and Mandalore itself were subjected to devastating bombardment with swathes of those worlds still desolate in Imperial times. Mandalorian Space was occupied and disarmed with a caretaker government created from elements of the failed peace movement.”

And then repeated again in another in-universe source called Death Watch Manifest, published in Bounty Hunter Code (2013)

“This perfect society threatened the Republic. Seven centuries ago, their craven, hut’uune warships and Jedi bombarded our worlds. They incinerated Mandalore’s farmland and forests, leaving much of our homeworld a forsaken desert of fine white sand, and then occupied our worlds. They killed, exiled, or disarmed our warriors and suppressed out ancient codes. The Republic called this dishonorable assault the Mandalorian Excision, as if we were cancerous tissue to be cut out of the galaxy. We call it the Dral’Han - the Annihilation.”

The first source didn’t dwell much into details, as it was published before the actual Mandalorian episodes of TCW were even aired (and so most likely authors didn’t have a proper data and/or did not want to contradict whatever the creative team of animated series have planned for future episodes). The keynote of the last two however is not only the fact that Jedi-led republic troopers invaded Mandalore Space and turned the planets into a wasteland but also that Republic occupation lasted for decades. And with that comes the changes forced - and logically thinking, controlled by the Republic - on Mandalorian society.

And so we have informations like that Republic either personally or through their “puppets” in the form of New Mandlorian’s government “killed, exiled, or disarmed our warriors and suppressed out ancient codes” [BHC]

and:

“The occupation would last for decades, and create a new schism in Mandalorian society. From the caretaker government emerged the so-called New Mandalorians, who bitterly resented the Republic but saw no hope in fighting it, and so renounced the warrior codes in favor of peace and neutrality. The New Mandalorians held most of power, and rebuilt Mandalore’s industrial base over the next few centuries. Some unrepentant mercenaries and warriors were exiled to the moon Concordia, while others dispersed throughout the galaxy, resuming the Mandalorians’ ancient trade as blasters-for-hire. The Mandalores of the post-Excision era were drawn from their ranks, though their authority was recognized by neither the New Mandalorians nor the sector government. [Warfare]

In conclusion, those who did not give up after losing the war and in result, refused to accept Republic occupation, were either killed or exiled to ecologically devastated Concordia (possible into other places), while those who managed to escape from the manhunt, haven’t been apparently acknowledged as political and/or ethic (religious?) group forcibly removed from their own land. Even though we know or at least can assume said warriors on the run managed to rebuild their society outside Mandalore Space, apparently in the light of New Mandalorians and Republic laws, they did not have any rights to what was taken from them by force nor to come back to the Mandalore or to have a voice in the government dominated by pacifists.

The Rebels animated show clearly bet on ethical diversity when it comes to Mandalorians yet by presenting the unmasked members of (warrior) clans who accepted and supported Bo-Katan as new Mandalore as so different from the TCW!New Pacifist (and Death Watch), this source adds uncomfortable implication that the “good” non-violent Mandalorians are predominantly white people while the “bad” who did not give up their violent ways included a great if not all presented then non-white characters (Sabine and her family, leaders of Rook and Eldar clans and presumbly their blood-related part of family).

In contrast, those who accepted and worked with the Republic, apparently gained aristocratic titles like Prince or Duchess (something unheard up to this point between Mandalorians but sadly this became the norm in Disney’s canon) and were at some point left to govern the rest of the nation.

The Clone Wars did not dwell much on that aspect, keeping all information vague as possible, which I suspect may be partially done to not drag the sins of the Republic, The Champion of the Democracy people should cheer up for, into the light too much. But even then we are told that “Mandalore's violent past is behind us. All of our warriors were exiled to our moon, Concordia. They died out years ago.” (though it is hard to tell if Almac talked about warriors in general or those from the last Civil War).

I do not have an idea why the persecution, as it is implied by visual look of characters, would be aimed mainly at non-white people to be removed from TCW!New Mandalorian society, beside the blatant racism of course. But to be honest, this problem is not only about lack of ethnic diversity between humans but the lack of Aliens too. Because ancient Mandalorians were members of an alien species known as Taungs and during the Mandalorian Wars plenty of other Aliens joined their ranks. Yet neither TCW nor Rebels, not even The Mandalorians or the Legends comics about modern times gave us definitely and without doubt recognized Mandalorians of alien origin. Some source here and there will mention them, but we do not see Aliens clad in beskar’gam in the most mainstream now star wars media. What really implies a lot negative things about decades long Republic occupation and New Mandalorians’s part in erasing unwanted “units” from the supposedly peaceful society.

And this was not just about killing or kicking out those not fitting the new ideal structures. It was about erasing the warrior traditions that the Republic did not like and has no use of it. This is why Mandalorian armors were destroyed throughout the centuries, while laws were forcibly changed and those opposing, persecuted by the government.

On the basis of the above tie-in materials, I find it unfair and even cruel to blame Satine, born seven centuries after Republic Invasion and occupation(★) for ethic purge that happened - was done - to Mandalorian society. For all we know, Satine was born into the already homogeneous, light skinned, blond-haired group presented in TCW. So in my opinion, the truly responsible for this ethic cleansing was the Republic and the earliest “collaborators” (★★) first and foremost, not the duchess herself.

However!

As much as I don’t think Satine bore responsibility for the social segregation / ethnic cleansing that happened in the past, the problem lies in the fact that her regime benefits the most from it and as far as sources go, she did nothing to unite the shattered society or to change existing laws. In other words, she was not the originator of this problem but she upholds it. And here duchess’ flaws come into picture.

One of Satine’s major flaws is the belief that her principles are the only correct one and thus the conviction that she knows best what is good for her nation. To be fair, Padme had the same flaw, but in contrast to the duchess, sources presented her as a person willing to actually listen to others and act on it. This is how she merged the drift between human and Gungan societies on Naboo during Invasion and how inspired by Teckla’s story, managed to win debate in the Senate. Satine, as much as her intentions in theory are good, doesn’t really accept a different point of view than her, and it is not just about Mandalorian warriors but Jedi as well, as she accused Obi-Wan that by doing his duty to Republic (leading troops), he forsaken his peacemaker principles.

She claims to be pacifist and seek peaceful solutions (as was seen with providing neutral ground for Republic and CIS negotations) yet the first things she told us about Death Watch and Pre Vizsla, the Governor of Concordia goes in different direction.

Satine: There is a group that calls itself Death Watch. I imagine these are the renegades you're looking for. They idolize violence and the warrior ways of the past. There are those among us, certain officials, who are working to root out these criminals. It has been an ongoing investigation.

Obi-Wan: How widespread is this Death Watch movement?

Satine: It's hardly a movement. It's a small group of hooligans who choose to vandalize public places, nothing more. We shall soon have them in custody. We have tracked them down to our moon, Concordia.

Idolizing violence or warrior ways of the past is not itself a crime. I mean, in our world there is plenty people fascinated by warriors of “barbarian” societies, like Vikings or Scyths (nomads) or who in general wish to come back to pagan faiths yet they aren’t going on murdering their kinsmen nor destroying anyone property. I’m pretty sure Satine is downplaying Death Watch’s offenses here so Kenobi (a Jedi investigator) won’t get interested too much but by not acknowledging its members as political movement and calling them just hooligans with pretty minor crimes in the scale of danger to public order but then going on how “those among us, certain officials, who are working to root out these criminals” gives quite questionable picture. Even more so, when Satine introduced Pre Vizsla, her supposedly close ally:

“Governor Vizsla is one of the officials I spoke of. He has been working to find the members of the Death Watch”

Death Watch was an organization made up of warriors who did not acknowledge Kryze’s power. But between the last Civil War that happened something along two decades ago and now, just before the actual terrorist attack, the source did not provide any data about major attack of said group (and yes, Tor Vizsla’s Death Watch had is own list of crimes, but with one sole incident on Concord Dawn [killing Jango’s family and the battle between DW and True Mandalorians that followed], he did not operate in Mandalorian Space as far as we known). Satine wants Kenobi to see them as simple hooligans that devastated public space yet has allies in high political spheres hunting down those “hooligans” known mainly for opposing her rule?

And you see, we could argue the Death Watch was a dangerous organization that needed to be stopped - but again, Tor’s DW operated far away from Mandalorian Space and were not recognized as part of New Mandalorian society (and who knows, maybe Jedi did try to track them?). Those who operated on Mandalore and Concordia Satine claimed to be just “criminals” but the first terrorist attack acknowledged by source happened in The Mandalore Plot yet the investigation was already ongoing matter. If members of the TCW!Death Watch were solely seen as criminals, then Pre Vizsla, a governor of Concordia did not need to be so personally involved for this was a case strictly for police or whatever inner security office operated on Mandalore and Concordia. This discrepancy between Satine’s story for the Jedi and what actually was happening in the secret - the ongoing investigation controlled by the highest political officials officially supporting Kryze’s government - suggests those warriors weren’t hunted down solely by their criminal/vandalistic activity. They were targeted because Death Watch opposed Satine’s pacifism and did not accept the Republic's influences / occupation and the result of it.

I understand why Satine choose pacifism over Mandalorian brutal, war-focused traditions as Mandalorian warriors, with some exception here and there, have never been the noble, shiny knights on white horses that went out of their way to save the poor, enslaved or weak around them. But the problem is that she did not allow other people to make the same decision freely. Like yes, probably a large part of society, at this point, would still put neutrality and peace over the past traditions but those who did not agree with Satine’s political and moral statement could be hunted down like members of Death Watch. This leads to another issue - Satine’s government did not try to reconcile with the exiled, shunned part of their society. Not going on to seek peace with Jaster Mereel’s True Mandalorians or Tor Vizsla’s Death Watch? Understable to some degree. Officially not acknowledging Jango Fett, a bounty hunter involved with attempts on Padme Amidala’s life? Makes absolute sense. But those who were exiled to ecologically devastated Concordia to die out and either survived the harsh years or were descendants of said warriors? A bit worrisome as those people were the closest living warriors to Mandalore (and her people’s safety).

Sure, it is hard to open a dialogue with someone who hates your guts and wants totally different things and even took part in a civil war to get the lost culture back but… remember how Satine argued with Obi-Wan what was the true role of peacekeeper?

Obi-Wan: A peacekeeper belongs on the front lines of conflict. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to do his job.

Satine: The work of a peacekeeper is to make sure that conflict does not arise.

Obi-Wan: Yes, a noble description, but not a realistic one.

And yes, Kryze’s idea of peacekeeping is noble but we don’t exactly see her doing anything in that direction when it comes to exiled warriors and supporters of old traditions, beside hunting them down with political power she, Pre Vizsla and their allies have over the rest of society. Of course, we could argue that Pre Vizsla was her ally and it's not that any big secret that members of his clan (like Tor) were still operating as Mandalorian mercenaries somewhere out in the galaxy. But Pre pretended to be an ally, a supporter of Satine’s regime. He wasn’t a warrior whom Kryze openly negotiated or communicated how to repair the broken bond between their two factions to make sure a new conlift won’t arise in the future. Instead she trusted a man who either proved somehow to be reformed/converted to pacifism (her way) or was seen as a “good” New Mandalorian from the start and whom she somehow talked into “hunting down” warriors who could be his own family / clan members.

See, Satine and Pre Vizsla could find a solution - not an easy one for sure but a first step to repair the damage - if they were willing to compromise. Sadly, Mandalorians are terribly bad at compromises, but that does not excuse the fact we have never heard or seen Satine trying in that regard. Like, if Mandalorians still wanted to take a part in jobs requiring fighting skills, they could join or start their own Bounty Hunter Guild because this profession is legimitalized by Republic laws. Not talking here about the type of jobs Jango (and True Mandalorians) took, that was mercenary work. But about hunting down the hardest, worst criminals across the galaxy [BHC]:

Or join Mandalorian Protectors who are the first line of protection for people living in Mandalorian Space. Something that warriors with the status of “criminal” most likely couldn’t even if they wished to work for society’s benefit. I may be wrong, but it seems to me a Mandalorian can’t be a gun-for-hire and lives on Mandalore, because Satine’s is against all violence, whatever who and why is using it - except those who work for her, like her own personal guards or police upholding her regime. We don’t hear Satine offering the exiled people amnesty if they agree to proposed compromise. We don’t hear her asking for negotiations, or at least a talk on neutral ground to see what could be changed and improved. We don’t see her offering access to education or medical help to warriors’ children who may never be capable of following in their parents footsteps or their eldery or injured, as a good will. We don’t see her acknowledging the Republic and her predecessors' role in destruction and erasing ethnic diversity that apparently forced many (including non-white) people to live far way from their original home.

I’m pretty sure some people will think she should not negotiate with terrorists! but… not all the faithful ones to old ways were terrorists or part of Death Watch. Not all wished for her death but many could want to come back to the family they were separated from. Some may even change their mind about New Mandalorians, adapt to their laws while keeping their old faith and in result, becoming an ambassador of duchess’ goodwill to other, less radicalized warriors.

Hell, Satine does not even need to succeed on that front. She could be rejected, but her claim to be peacekeeper actually had some solid ground. It would be different to hear “Death Watch (warriors) rejected my peaceful efforts and we are trying to deal with their criminal activity” than “oh no, they are not any movement, just hooligans who accidentally also happen to be my political enemy we, the alliance of highest political leaders, hunt down to root out the problem”.

In the really short summary:

I do not think Satine was the villain of the story who came up with the idea of exiling people and Aliens of different look than hers. I would not put that responsibility on her as it seems TCW!New Mandalorians are the final product of what happened from 738 BBY to Satine’s times. But I do think the problem lies in fact her regime:

- upholds this situation by not seeking a peaceful solution (compromise) with warriors and their descendents living shattered across the galaxy,

- does not change a harmful laws to faithful to old faith even if not all warriors wished to harm duchess or Mandalore’s best interest (including those non-white ones who weren’t seen at all in The Clone Wars but who apparently exist in Rebels as united to fight against Empire)

- generally puts her idealism (pacifism) over people’s best interest and

- does not let others choose freely.

Sorry for the wall of text but if we are gonna blame Satine for something, then let’s blame her for things she did or was implied by sources to do, not for being a most recognizable face of changes that fans passionately hate and whose were done by the creative team’s whim because Filoni wanted add to Mandalorians some “nordic flavor” and/or being inspired by German society just before WWII.

(★)An occupation that may officially end at some point but the Republic influences for sure did not, as during the last Civil War, Jedi were sent to save young Satine, the [potentially] future pro-Republic leader but we don’t hear anything about Republic troops or Jedi helping stop the war and save common citizens? Also, even Satine’s accusations “Clearly, your investigation was ordered because the Senate is eager to intervene in our affairs” seems more closer to this issue than just a cynical remark) (★★) I am simplifying a bit the situation here as from the perspective of Mandalorian warriors - and in general, those loyal to old faith and traditions, New Mandalorians are traitors; it is their acceptance that allowed the systematic erasing of their culture and coming with it ethic diversity. However, from the perspective of New Mandalorians, especially those left in wasteland and ruins of their cities, to let their warrior roots be torn out was the means of survival. I suppose, as the more years passed, the survivors’ descendants were more and more steeped in the rhetoric of the Republic (the “correct” education) that it was the fault of barbarian warriors and the Republic came to save the situation.

#friendship #star wars #satine kryze #mandalorians #mandalorian history #my reply #sorry it took me so long to answer #and i hope the wall of text wasn't the problem #i really wanted to explain the ground my opinion is based on #i don't think satine deserves to be called racist as we don't see her interact with people of different color skin much #which is not her character flaw but creative team's problem #whose choice makes bad impression like she accepted pre's because he looks like her despite the connection to clan #tied to death watch for decades #i don't think she kicked non-white people from TCW!New Mandalorian society #but we also don't have any hints she tried made a peace with exiled mandalorians (whose in rebels are more ethnically diverse #so i don't think she is villain but she is not without a fault in regard to social segregation #i hope it does answer anon's curiousity

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gerec · 2 years

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Au-gust 2022

Find previous prompts here: AU-gust Challenge 2022

7. Science Fantasy

Pairing(s): Cherik Warnings: None

Star Wars AU! Follows after my ficlet Hunting for Beskar :D

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Erik mutters, as they slip quietly up the gangway of the docked Imperial Cruiser. They’ve managed to evade the spaceport patrols thanks to Summers’ intel, while McCoy has managed to override the security systems without triggering any alarms. So far, everything is going exactly to Erik’s plan – intercept on Brentaal, midway on the Hydian Way trade route between Corellia and Ord Mantell – and it certainly looks as though they’ll actually get away with stealing the shipment of Beskar from his former employers.

Except that everything has gone just a touch too smoothly, given the intricacy of their planned heist and the size of their payload, and Erik has been doing this for too long to believe that the luck they’ve had so far is going to hold.

At his side, Charles grins at him, as though he knows exactly what Erik’s thinking, and he curses again for ever agreeing to another one of Xavier’s mad and always lethal operations. As fantastic as the sex is every time, he’s not sure it’s worth getting a blaster shot in the face (there was that one time too where he was almost fed to a Rancor on Nal Hutta) though Erik has a bad habit of forgoing all common sense around the Xavier siblings.

Behind them, their motley crew of smugglers and mercenaries follow, armed to the teeth with enough ordnance to take out a few Imperial platoons. And that’s not even counting the Mandalorian who hired them for the job, who Erik hasn’t actually heard speak to anyone except Charles. Between ‘Howlett’, Raven, Summers and two of Erik’s own – Angel and Janos – there should hopefully be enough people on hand to haul the Beskar back to the ship.

(His co-pilot Azazel and McCoy are waiting for their signal, ready to come in turrets blazing to extract them if needed.)

His knowledge of the cruiser’s layout has them bypassing all the hot spots and chokepoints, and soon enough they’re on the detention level where he knows the Beskar is stored. The cargo bays are entirely too open and difficult to defend, so anything of real value ends up being stowed away in cells behind security doors and shield generators.

(That’s a rule Erik himself recommended and implemented fleet-wide, while he was still working under Shaw’s command.)

Of course, once they get there, the Beskar isn’t the only thing they discover, and Charles’ face drains entirely of color before he’s shooting the panel to the cell door and setting off every conceivable alarm.

“What the kriffing Bantha’s ass are you doing, you maniac!” he seethes, as Charles shoves past him to quickly rewire the doors. Only Raven seems unfazed by her brother losing his damn mind, going wildly off plan to very quietly get in and get out without alerting the Imps. “You’re going to bring the entire ship to our location and get us all killed.”

“I know,” Charles says, his voice stripped of all its usual smugness and irreverence. There’s a determined look in his eye that Erik doesn’t know – has never seen in all the time they’ve spent together on and off-mission – and he realizes in an instant that something very big and very terrible is about to be revealed. “Erik, I need you to take Howlett, Angel and Janos and grab all the Beskar you can carry. I’ll create a diversion to buy you some time to contact the Genosha for pickup.”

Snarling, Erik grabs Charles by the arm and doesn’t let go, anger and fear making him less than amenable to taking orders from his some-time lover. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

McCoy’s voice comes over the comlink then, crackling with static and barely discernable from the sirens blaring overhead.

Charles, whatever you’re doing you’ve got T-minus one minute to do it. Stormtroopers on your level, headed your way.

And that’s also when the contents of the cell reveal themselves to Erik and the others; three young teens all wearing force suppression collars, who fling their arms around Charles and hold on to him like a lifeline.

“Master Charles,” one of the girls whispers, as Charles hugs them all fiercely, hand gently stroking the girl’s long red hair. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“It’s alright, Jean. I’m here,” Charles says.

“He will be if we don’t all get out of here,” Howlett interjects. “Run now. Talk later.”

Too stunned to argue, Erik can only nod in agreement, and hope they make it out alive so he can get some much-needed answers.

#gerec writes #cherik #day 7 #science fantasy #au-gust 2022 #star wars au

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flyboy-and-fight-me · 4 years

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thanks to this anon that gave me this headcanon

So after Din and the Kid left Tatooine Cobb had time to do some thinking, the town was safe so he thought,,, why not give this whole adventuring thing a shot? what could go wrong?

He checks everywhere for new armour- or chest piece or- aw hell, he gives a confirmation sniff on a musty old poncho he finds at the back of his wardrobe and shrugs it on, packing up his blasters and saying goodbye to his friends in town and heading to the spaceport

he’s bartering with some smugglers for a way off the rock when Peli spots him and there’s just something in her grandma mind that goes “ah yes this is the space cowboy Din refused to say more than three words about” (she also over hears him talking about the town he came from)

she pulls him away from the nasty looking smuggler who’s close to punting him nine ways to sunday and offers him a spot on her next ship out- the owner of the ship agrees to give him a job, get him working on the ship (because hey! he’s handy with a blaster and knows how to rewire a pod racer or two)

he’s good on the ship, he realises after a while, the stars are something he thought he thought he would never be able to see and yet... it was all so beautiful, all the worlds he thought he’d never see.

Cobb knows they’re smugglers, but,, he can see that they’re different. he doesn’t realise it until they’re in the middle of an old imperial base, and instead of heading to the armoury the smugglers head left, picking up med pacs, adrenals, bacta... he doesn’t know what they’re doing- they didn’t get that roughed up on the way in

but he goes along, shoving everything he can in his bags before they start hearing shouts coming from down the hall

Cobb pulls his buddy aside, let’s call him Mick, he pulls Mick aside and asks what they’re gonna be able to do with all the med supplies

Mick smiles at him, and tells him to wait and see

Cobb is confused as fuck, but he follows his crew because somewhere along the line he began to care about them. Mick takes him to a refugee camp- they’re on a previously imperial occupied world, of course there are vulnerable people there but

he didn’t expect for the rough and tough smuggler friends he’d come to know to be handing out medpacs and supplies to anyone they could reach, and before long he’s sitting around a fire with a mix of sentients thanking him for everything they’d done.

He smiles when this tiny little boy toddles up to him, he looks half twi’lek, if the bright green hair and pointed ears have anything to do with it. There’s a hat on his head far too large and frayed and weathered to have belonged to him. The kid giggles and reaches up towards him

he’s thrown back about a year, give it take, and there’s another kid reaching out, only the kid is so much smaller, and he’s reaching for a Mandalorian in gleaming beskar

it’s not that he hadn’t thought about Mando, ever since he’d left there had been something different, the air tasted different and his thirst for adventure that he thought was gone had suddenly come rushing back

He’d hated to watch Mando go, there was something about him that left Cobb in awe, and maybe, in the back of his head a traitorous little voice kept hoping that if he travelled far enough he’d run into him again

he didn’t, obviously

and that was fine!

He turned his attention back to the kid in his arms, settling by the fire as he pointed out his mother -he was right, by the way, a twi’lek woman with emerald skin smiled at the two of them

at some point in the night the kid had put his hat on Cobb’s head, and when he handed the kid back to his mother and put the hat on his head the kid shook his head

he looked at the mother- who of course just smiled and placed her son’s hat on his head, muttering that it was a thank you before turning in for the night

it’s another six months, before the traitorous little voice in the back of his head gets its wish

he’s... somewhere, he guesses, everything had gotten a little fuzzy after him and the rest of the crew had been snatched outside a cantina on Brentaal V- but suddenly he’s on a compound on some planet and there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that it’s happening again-

and then he hears something ignite, and the distant hum of something he hopes doesn’t find him

footsteps and shouts and blaster fire is getting closer and if he can just get out of these cuffs then-

“hey, hey hey hey, calm down i’m not going to hurt you”

he knows that voice

gloves come up to his face and it takes everything in him not to flinch back

“...Mando?”

buy me a Ko-Fi!

#Poncho Cobb #star wars #the mandalorian #cobb vanth #dincobb #din djarin x cobb vanth #the mandalorian s2e1 #baby yoda #art #din djarin #the mandalorian season 2 #star wars fanart #din djarin/cobb vanth #din on the cobb #cobbdin

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shimmersing · 3 years

Text

WIP Whenever

Thanks @tishinada! I'll tag @taraum because I'm just like that.

Suuuuper rough draft of a few moments in the Taral V/Jedi Prisoner flashpoints-thing-fic. Erithon is our Trooper, Erianthe is our Knight. Absent Aitahea is our Consular. (Avengers... assemble!)

Oteg beckoned them closer. “Concentrate with me. Focus your mind. Feel the Force around us. Hear its echoes.”

The two Jedi took up meditative postures. After a few moments of bemused consideration, Erithon simply closed his eyes. He had a vague idea that he should be explicitly not thinking about anything, but he kept drifting into memories of Aitahea. On Taris, where they’d met for first time, or so he’d thought. They’d learned by the end of that mission that it was in truth the second time. As children, they’d found each other on Brentaal in the aftermath of the Sacking of Coruscant. The Jedi had nearly been erased from existence, and his own father had been killed in action. Little lost children.

Then Alderaan, where… where she’d awoken in his arms, like a folk tale. Where he’d done exactly what she’d asked him not to do, and it had nearly cost them everything. But it hadn’t. He still didn’t fully understand what she’d done. All he remembered was sunlight and a warm hand to hold, and opening his eyes to her tearstained, beautiful face. Her fingertips tracing the scar that she’d apologized for. Her voice raised in song. Dancing into his arms. And nearly-

Oteg spoke softly into the uncanny silence. “Yes… the Force is with us…” Erithon opened his eyes to see Erianthe and Oteg had moved past him where an amorphous figure knelt, aglow. He squinted; it was easier to see if he wasn’t looking directly at it. Whatever it was.

Erianthe turned to face the trooper as he cautiously approached. “A Jedi without her physical form. Her body is long dead, but her wisdom – her essence – lives on,” she explained, a succinct answer to his unvoiced query.

“When you said your source was unconventional, I wasn’t picturing… that.” Boy, am I gonna have a story for you, Jedi.

The entity rose on translucent feet, and Oteg waved them to silence. Her voice was an echo of an echo. “The darkness will consume all it touches. Stars will burn black, ashes raining on lifeless worlds. Everything ends.”

It sounded like a horror story. Not just the portentous words; Erithon felt it, the joyless promise of a cold, empty, unspeakably lonely galaxy.

“The prisoner holds the darkness at bay, lost inside it for three hundred years. His strength will fail. Then, he will become the darkness.”

#wip whenever #swtor fanfiction #wip #swtor fanfic #as yet unnamed fic #just indulgent af #oc: erithon zale #hot damn I'm having such a good time #boy is just smitten #could he focus for like ten seconds

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shabre-legacy · 3 years

Text

ok so since I forgot who I had originally do this in Shabre Legacy storyline and I have to write a part that requires me to figure this out, who should run Brentaal Star. Shaialis and Elazari, Elazari and Izutsa, Izutsa and Natamai, or Izutsa and Shaialis

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mercurypilgrim · 4 years

Note

Muse - ❤️- For a secret crush - for the OC of your choice!

❤️- For a secret crush

An OC of my choice, eh? ;)

I’m going to go with Kal!

Grand Moff Kilran.

It’s the juxtaposition of his smooth, ultra-posh manner combined with his ‘Butcher of Coruscant’ moniker that he absolutely lives up to that really does it for Kal.

He’s cultured, refined and a cunning, strategic genius, but he’s also a brutally efficient tactician.

Kal, with his... questionable taste, likes that. He also finds him particularly attractive in the physical sense, even if others don’t seem to think so.

They met during the assault on the Brentaal Star and naturally, Kal flirted shamelessly. They worked together a few more times (there’s some unfinished smut floating around for them...), and Kaliyo frequently teased Kal about appreciation for the ‘ugly Moff’ once she found out. :P

#asks #Kalja’viranuo’ardieri #Kal (Cipher Nine)#I really should finish that smut tbh

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reliciron · 4 years

Text

Decided to write out the important bit of my jedi consular’s backstory.

It should be noted that he doesn’t technically want to die, he’s just very scared of his master and doesn’t see any way to escape.

That said, at the end of the day he does try (and fail) to die by throwing himself at some jedi, so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that.

Go to the northern reaches of Brentaal IV. There you will find a small Jedi temple: the place where Grand Master Satele Shan first trained.

It has enjoyed relative anonymity since, but this must change.

Infiltrate the temple. Slaughter everyone within. Show the Jedi that nothing is safe from the Sith.

Do this, my clever acolyte, and I will raise you from the shadows.

You will be my apprentice.

Dust kicks up as he races across the northern plateaus on his stolen speeder bike. It will take hours to track properly, with the damage he left behind. But by then he’ll have either completed his mission…

Or he’d be dead.

He clenches his teeth.

She was mad. She HAD to be.

No.

He shakes his head.

No. His master is many things, but not mad.

Just calculating. And he may be a mere acolyte, but he hadn’t survived this long without learning some of the game.

If her words were true, the Sith would send a platoon, or at least a full squad. Make a show of the massacre to demoralize the Republic and Jedi Order both.

One lone acolyte would not be enough to guarantee victory. Indeed, it was very likely that he would not survive the attempt at all, even with 6 years of careful training from his master.

He’d been her faithful servant. Her knife in the dark. She’d liberated him from Rattatak and kindly taken him under her wing as a boy. He’d learned to wear the Force like a shroud. Hide himself from sight and strike from the shadows.

She gave the word, and he carried out the sentence. A name, a picture, a place, and they’d be dead in a matter of days.

He couldn’t be her apprentice. No matter his talent, he was Rattataki. And as far as the anyone else knew, he didn’t exist.

He KNEW this. She’d said it so many times. But now she was offering it to him.

It wasn’t real.

And the impossibility of the task only affirmed his suspicions.

He was not MEANT to succeed.

He did not exist, yet as more Sith and Imperials fell before him it became harder and harder to keep his existence secret. And she would never let him go, not when he knew so much of her secrets.

He was a liability now. One she hoped would take care of itself in a pointless attack on a temple.

He should run. He SHOULD, but he CAN’T.

His throat goes tight and he slows down a bit as the temple’s coordinates loom on the navigation computer.

He’d tried to run once, before he’d truly understood how much of a PRIVILEGE it was to have been chosen by his mistress. He couldn’t recall the ‘how’s and ‘why’s anymore, but he remembered the punishment had gone on for well over a week.

Run and I’ll find you, little one. And I will not be so merciful the next time.

If he tries to abandon his duty, he’d die all the same, but she’d make sure to make it hurt. At least the Jedi would make it quick.

Yes.

If its one thing the soft-hearted fools abhorred, it was making a being suffer.

There was no way out for him, but an end by their sabers would be better than by her hand.

–

It had been laughably easy to enter the temple. The roomy interior had given him plenty of space to cloak himself and slip through without being noticed by the guardians. He’d made it all the way into the empty training room, where he’d entered a vent near the ceiling and used it to gain access to the meeting room.

Inside there were a handful of masters and their attending padawans, likely a collection of the strongest jedi in the temple. An incredibly foolish target.

But that was the point, wasn’t it.

He could have killed a great many by now. Picked off padawans one by one has he slithered through the building. Had he actually believed the lie his master had told him, he would have.

But he didn’t. And now these Jedi were his best chance for a swift end.

As he grips his lightsaber, he wonders, not for the first time, what his mother would have thought of him. He didn’t remember her, or much of Rattatak for that matter. But he hoped he’d grown to be a strong son, one who might have made her proud, had things been different.

He muffles the sound of the grate being opened, curls his toes over the edge of the vent frame, and leaps.

–

The creature had seemed to come from thin air.

A calm discussion with his fellow masters about possible changes to the curriculum one minute, and a whirl of dark robes and red light the next.

By the time he and the others managed to pull their lightsabers, 3 padawans lay crumpled on the floor with the attacker ready to strike again.

The battle had been vicious.

Master Evren nearly had a leg taken off, and Knight Balrus fell in a burst of lightning before Ixal finally got in under its guard to slice up through it’s hood.

It screamed, bringing its saber up in mindless defense as it clutched its smoking face, but it was a futile effort. He followed through, ducking its arm and spinning around behind to carve his saber deep across it’s back.

It folded like a house of cards, crashing to the floor in a heap of dark robes.

Not dead, but also not getting up any time soon.

Healers and medical droids are called, and to everyone’s relief no one was killed. But it still left them with a host of very injured jedi, and a deeply wounded assailant who should have never made it this far.

–

Once the others have been seen to, he and the few other jedi of rank gather in the assassin’s room.

The scans the droids provided them with were both enlightening… and disturbing.

A juvenile rattataki male, approximately16 years of age. Signs of extensive, long-term electrical trauma, 18 healed fractures, and general malnutrition. And that was all underneath the damage he himself had caused in the battle. Evidently he’d blinded the man - no, boy - in one eye, and his final strike had severed his spine. He was now paralyzed from the waist down.

Stars above.

It’s about an hour more before the boy comes to, numbed heavily around his injuries but not sedated.

They needed to speak with him, and it absolutely could not wait.

Even so, none of them are prepared for the tsunami of terror that all but knocks them off their feet.

He chokes and tugs desperately at his restraints, every inch a panicked child despite the destruction he’d wrought only a few hours ago.

It makes his stomach roil to know he’d not fought a man, but a boy.

“Peace, young one,” he says softly. And the single remaining eye fixes upon him.

A muscle jumps in the rattataki’s jaw before his face goes eerily blank, at odds with the fear still saturating the Force around them.

“My name is Master Ixal. I’m afraid you’ve committed some rather serious crimes here today, but I would like to talk, if you wouldn’t mind.” When all the boy does is stare at him, he smiles, “May I ask your name?”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the answer.

“Acolyte.”

His accent is Kaas-ian, but given that he’s an alien, there’s a very good chance that he was a slave.

“Is that your name, or the one you were given?”

He blinks, as if trying to parse the meaning.

“Did you ever have a different name?”

Something small and fragile flickers across the part of his face that is still visible.

“…. Faun.”

He sighs. Good. Not so far gone that he won’t answer questions entirely, “Faun then. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“My master sent me.”

A sith then. Were they truly so desperate as to use children?

“They sent you to attack us?”

His eye closes and he seems resigned.

“Yes.”

“Who sent you? Are there more coming? Why is the temple being targ-?”

“It doesn’t matter, kill me and be done with it.”

“What-?”

“I killed your people and infiltrated your temple, is that not enough?!”

He seems desperate then, like a frightened animal, and the fear redoubles in the Force.

“Easy now,” he assures, “You killed no one, all those who were injured survived.” He frowns, “And you will not die for it. We certainly won’t be letting you go, but you will live and be treated fairly. But I can promise you, the more you help us now, the easier things will go for you in the future.”

Instead of being assured, the young man barks a harsh, bitter laugh.

“What, future?! I failed to die! Now my master will come for me to correct my failure!” He positively whimpers and shrinks in on himself, “She’ll be so angry! She’ll make it hurt! Why can’t you just kill me!”

They’re all taken aback by the outburst, but as his words start to sink in a sick feeling begins to settle in to Ixal’s stomach.

“What do you mean you ‘failed to die’?”

“You think I am a fool?!” he spits. “What else am I to believe when she gives me such an impossible task and promises rewards I knew could never be!” He sags onto the hospital bed. “I do not exist. She cannot allow me to be tied to her, and I was no longer worth the risk.”

He truly feared this master of his so much that he would willingly undertake a suicide mission? Stars above, what had this woman done to him?!

He shakes his head. They knew the why now, but not the how.

“How did you manage to make it all the way into the meeting room? You would have had to pass several guardians.”

The boy huffs, voice still raw and wavering, but evening out as they entered more neutral territory. “Your security is poor and my master trained me well. I cloaked myself in the Force, muffled my presence, and walked right passed them.”

A hint of pride threads through the fear in the air, but already a few of their number have left, unable to take such overpowering emotions.

Cloaking is a rare gift. That this young man is capable of doing so, well enough to fool full fledged jedi, is both dangerous and intriguing. Between that, his combat ability, and the hyper-projection of his emotions, they were dealing with a powerful force user, no matter his age.

It only occurs to him now that the young rattataki could have likely killed dozens of padawans and younglings before being discovered.

But he didn’t.

An idea starts to form but he’d need to consult his fellow masters first.

“Thank you, Faun, you’ve been very helpful. Please rest for now. We will speak again later.”

The boy looks wary as they leave, but more than likely the sedatives are already being administered through his drip. He won’t be conscious for much longer.

–

The discussion is heated, with several knights and masters arguing against it, but after consulting the Jedi Council, they finally come to an agreement.

They would attempt to rehabilitate Faun.

Turning a sith was notoriously difficult, but his youth would work in their favor.

The skills of an assassin, Force-cloaking especially, where nearly impossible to teach to jedi. Too close to the dark side for many to want to risk learning. But as much as they may wish otherwise, sometimes those skills were needed, and if they could earn Faun’s loyalty they’d have an invaluable ally.

It would be a long and delicate process. Mind healers would be needed to try and break the chains his master had instilled in his mind, and the physical reconstruction and recovery would be just as taxing.

There was no guarantee that it would work at all, but he genuinely believed it was worth a try.

The poor boy had been through so much. With a bit of work they might give him a second chance at a fulfilling life.

Dark-side or no, the Force practically hummed around him in a way Ixal had not seen since young Satele. He didn’t know what part this young man might play, but he had a feeling he may yet prove essential in the future.

This would not be the end the young man had sought, but a new beginning.

======

From there it takes a long time to deprogram him, and they need to install several internal cybernetic bypasses in his spine to get around the damage. At the end of it, he’s got a pretty serious scar that runs from right shoulder to left hip, a few numb patches on his lower back, and his eye is still blinded. He learns to hide his accent, too. And he’s somewhere in his late 20s-early 30s by the time the game starts.

He was sent to Tython as a fresh start for his padawan training, since no one there would know who he was, aside from the Council.

His companions don’t find out until they’re fighting the First Son and Syo tells them to try and get them to leave or turn on Faun. Zenith almost does leave afterwards, but after a long discussion they all stick with him.

#swtor #jedi consular #character backstory #sith acolyte #he was kidnapped from rattatak and enslaved i just was trying to put it through the lens of what a brainwashed person would see it as #satele shan DOES come from brentaal 4 but everything else is completely made up #so if there is actual information from her backstory that contradicts this then *shugs* whoopsies #tw: suicidal thoughts #sort of

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autisticlaezel · 4 years

Photo

Prepare for for trouble! Make it double

Marley and @lavampira‘s Andan took a detour to the Brentaal Star on their way to Dromund Kaas, which ended about as well as you’d expect when two evil spies are given semi free reign

Never thought one of my ocs would be part of evil Imperial space team rocket, but here we are

#shut up charlie #oc: marloveigh #andan vicari #rel: the incompetence of our enemies

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lifblogs · 3 years

Text

Whumpay 2021: Day 15 - Near-Death

Peace and Attachment

read on ao3 906 words graphic depictions of violence, near-death, star wars, the clone wars, obi-wan kenobi, cc-2224 | commander cody, anakin skywalker, ahsoka tano, hurt!obi-wan kenobi, graphic injuries, gore

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he was doing the Sword and Shield maneuver with Commander Cody deep in the pits of the warehouses of Brentaal IV, and then, a gunship careered out of the sky, heading straight towards them.

Commander Cody immediately lunged for Obi-Wan—who was already running—to push him aside and shield him. But at the last moment, Obi-Wan used the Force to push all of his men back. He couldn’t let them get hurt!

The ship was torn apart as it made contact with the buildings and then the ground. All firing and battle in the area temporarily stopped, though the battle in the sky was still being laid down with heavy cannon fire.

The next few seconds were nothing but impossibly loud noise that seemed to stab straight into his brain, getting thrown apart, and hit by various things, and then some strange pressure.

He coughed away the dust, blinking open his eyes. The pain kicked in, and Obi-Wan screamed. His legs were in agony, the very bones seeming to screech with the pain. And then he noticed the pain in his stomach that went all the way through to his back. Blood gurgled up into his mouth, and he coughed, and struggled for breath.

Cody had yelled, calling men over as he raced towards him, and they were trying to move Obi-Wan. He’d gotten trapped under one of the torn-off wings of the gunship, and some of the debris had punctured him.

“Commander, what if the pressure of the debris is all that’s keeping him from not bleeding out?” one of the clones asked (was it Waxer?) when pulling Obi-Wan out began to prove unsuccessful and he was bleeding more heavily.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan breathed. “Just do it.”

“Alright. Men, have a field cauterizer ready.”

One of his men—he could no longer tell who with his vision blurring and going black and red—took off his pack and started searching for the tool.

Hell.

This was going to hurt.

After some deliberating and planning, they began to push and lift. Boil was calling for backup, and droids began to fire again. A protective perimeter was laid out, his men protecting him with a fierce loyalty.

They managed to get Obi-Wan out from under the wing, and that’s when blood nearly began to gush from him. He was losing touch on reality. He tried reaching for the Force, but it seemed to almost slip out of his grasp.

They set to work on him, and he barely felt it.

Obi-Wan was conscious for the rest of the battle and for when they managed to take him back to the Negotiator, but for the life of him, he had no idea what had happened. Nothing had made sense, and he hadn’t been able to respond to anything. He’d just been like a useless doll. Completely helpless, at anyone’s mercy.

Something was injected into him, and he was losing consciousness as he was carried towards a bacta tank.

~~~

“Hey, I think he’s waking up.”

“Don’t be too loud, Snips. He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Lovely,” Obi-Wan managed to groan, even as he struggled to open his eyes. “Could you two…”—a yawn cracked his jaws—”please shut up?”

A relieved giggle met him.

Obi-Wan managed to open his eyes and he saw Anakin and Ahsoka, one on either side of him. Anakin grasped his forearm.

“Glad to have you back.”

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Gunship fell from the sky.”

“Oh, no, I do vividly remember that part.”

“Well, Cody got you back to the ship,” Ahsoka filled in, “and, well…”

“Look, all that matters is that you’re alright,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan tried to sit up, but pain flared in his abdomen and twinged in his legs. He laid back down.

Then he noticed the teary gazes on him.

“I…” A darkness surrounded him, and he actually thought he might start crying. How wonderful. “I almost died, didn’t I?” he asked, voice much quieter and more lost than he’d ever intended it to come out as.

Anakin swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”

Ahsoka, clearly having a hard time with the moment, playfully punched him in the shoulder, making him wince, and said, “But you didn’t!”

“No, indeed I didn’t.”

Suddenly, Anakin flung himself into Obi-Wan, and their arms wrapped around each other almost immediately. Hugging his former Padawan hurt, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, and he… he had felt himself slipping. And he hadn’t even truly known what it had meant while it was happening, but now… after the fact.

Oh Force.

Anakin buried his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t say anything, just tried to breathe and hold back the shaking that wanted to take over. A tear trailed down his face, fear for his own death that had almost happened, but immense sadness at what it would have been like for Anakin and Ahsoka. He held on tight until weakness took him, and he had to lie back down. Ahsoka rested her head on his shoulder, and he pat the crown of her montrals.

Not long after a medical droid came to check on him and administer some medicine, he fell asleep, and, his former Padawan and his lineage was with him, he felt at peace. Attachment wasn’t their way, but during a brutal war, sometimes it was all they had.

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padawanlost · 6 years

Note

I thought that, according to canon, Tatooine wasn't part of the Republic? Especially from the exchange between Shmi and Qui-Gon (SHMI: He deserves better than a slave's life.QUI-GON: Had he been born in the Republic, we would have identified him early. The Force is unusually strong with him, that much is clear.).

Before we get into ifTatooine is part of the Republic or not, let’s try to understand what theRepublic actually worked. The Republic was not the equivalent of a country withall the planets as states. This analogy is common but misleading. TheRepublic was actually the result of a group of planets with similar interestsgetting together.

The ancient Republic wasmore a collection of civilizations than a common one, its worlds partially knittogether by Rakatan-derived technologies. When they looked to the galactic Rim,young Core worlds such as Corellia, Duro, Alsakan, Axum, and Brentaal didn’tthink about common goals, but their own ambitions. [Ryder’s Windham’s Jedi vs. Sith: TheEssential Guide to the Force]

Over the years, members ofthe Republic and those associated with them expanded their government by exploringnew worlds outside the Core and Inner Rim. Those planets were all considered partof the Republic’s territory. Planets also decided to join the new government forprofit or protection and they too became part of the Republic.

It’s also important to separateto Senate from the Republic because being part of the Republic’s territoriesdid not guaranteed a seat in the senate. For thousands of years, the senateonly allowed a handful of senators per Sectors (50+ planets). So, for a planetto be considered a territory it just had to explored or “discovered” byRepublic’s citizens. Tatooine is one of these cases:

Tatooine was part of theRepublic in GL’s sw (don’t know about Disney’s canon). It was part of the Arkanissector, it was involved in some of the Republic’s conflicts (Sith wars) and atone point it even had a representative on the Galatic Senate (according toWookieepedia).

The rule of law wasoften taken for granted in the Core but theoretical on the Rim. Wealthy worlds colonized newplanets in the Rim with scant regard for the rights of indigenous species, andthe megacorps treated unexplored space as a private preserve for commercialexploitation. Sometimes such exploitation was so blatant that the Senatestirred itself to action: In 704 BBY it ended the disastrous experiment incorporate administration known as the Outer Expansion Zone after civil unrestgripped the Expansion Region north of Coruscant. But particularly in the OuterRim, central authority was often weak to the point of being nonexistent, andabuses went unchecked. In the centuries before the civil war that wouldspell the end of the Republic, swaths of the galaxy fell into economicstagnation and decay. The Senate made two significant moves in 124 BBY. First,it declared the entire Outer Rim and parts of the Mid Rim a free-trade zone ina bid to jump-start economic development and rebuild ties between the Rim andthe Core. Second, it granted a number of megacorps the status of functionalconstituencies, granting them Senate representation. These efforts didspur economic development, but the cost was a further diminution of centralpower, and even fewer protections for poor, remote worlds. The chiefbeneficiaries, meanwhile, were the Trade Federation and the other megacorps.Rimmers saw raw material taken away from their worlds and returned as goodsthey couldn’t afford, while the Trade Federation cannily turned its economicmight into political power, buying up blocs of votes in the Senate. By thefinal decades of the Republic, it was clear that some kind of reckoning was athand. Large portions of the Rim were abandoned to the growing might of theHutts or exploited by wealthy, corrupt Senators, while in the Core thedeal-making was more mannered but equally crooked. In many systemsmegacorps were the only law, and they were concerned with profits, not therights of citizens, environmental protections, or economic development. Aschaos spread, powerful sectors and megacorps first chafed at the limits placedon their military capabilities, then began to ignore these ancient laws theRepublic could no longer enforce. [Star Wars: The Essential Guide ToWarfare by Jason Fry]

Anakin’s actual birthplaceremains unknown, but various sources confirm that he was born into slavery,probably in the Outer Rim Territories. It should be noted that slaverywas illegal throughout the Republic at the time of his birth, but thatRepublic laws were seldom enforced in the Outer Rim. [Ryder’s Windham’sJedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force]

After the RuusanReformations of 1000 BBY, a resurgent Republic sought to knit itself backtogether, reestablishing its institutions in the Outer Rim. [Star Wars: The Essential Guide ToWarfare by Jason Fry]

Tatooine,an outer rim territory, had to be part of the Republic for the clone wars tomake sense. If the planters from the Rims that were not represented by theSenate weren’t part of the Republic why was the Separatist movement wastrying to cede from the Republic? Imo, people take the “ruled by the hutts”thing too literately. The Hutts had all the power but that doesn’t mean theywere the legitimate government.

Padmé had troubleunderstanding how Anakin and Shmi were slaves because the Republic hasanti-slavery laws. If Padmé didn’t believe Tatooine was a Republic territory,why would she even think this?

“I don’t understand,” [Padmé] said. “Slavery isn’t permitted by the Republic. There areantislavery laws…” Shmi cut me off. “The Republic doesn’t exist out here,” she said sharply. “We must survive on our own. ” [Jude Watson.Queen Amidala Journal]

Tatooine is part of theRepublic, but being part of the Republic means very little for poor Outer Rimplanets. The planet, like many others, was completely forgotten and left in thehands of corrupt local governments and criminals until protecting them becameinteresting again (The Clone Wars).

#ask #anon #gffa poltics #tatooine #sw meta #txt

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