#forced slavery

[uzi-x33]

the fact that it’s so unsafe for women to just LIVE that MEN have to make songs about it.

[hearthfire-heartfire]

no one on the english-speaking side of this site gives a fuck about japanese people except as paper dolls in their fantasies. y’all don’t notice or care when we’re targets of violence in america STILL and you don’t notice when our history on this continent is being erased because you can’t fucking recognize it in the first place! even as we relive it.

i’m tired of the gentrification. i’m tired of vandalism, arson, and censorship. i’m tired of arguing about the atrocity of the a-bombs and the incarceration and model minority shit. i’m tired of people using my heritage as an escape, both in imagination and in physical reality. i’m tired of people’s fake familiarity that leads them to correct my grandmother’s accent coming out of my mouth.

if you don’t show up for nikkei where you live, if you don’t even know how, you don’t belong anywhere near japanese culture.

[keferon]

Isn’t Vortex a fucking torture freak tho? 👀👀👀

Yep. He is. He is a lot of things actually. The more you learn about him the more fucked up it gets

[ichosetenderplaces]

I : And Muse Beside the Rippling Stream

Part I : Feel No Fear Before the Multitude of Men Requested By: @lissthatskiss Ares!Technoblade x HalfNymph!Reader

Recommended Listening: For the Love of God by MSI and IDWBM by Type O Negative Words: 1.2k Taglist: @lissthatskiss @segnoblade @wingedghostpepper

The steady grip on the hilt of your sword is the only thing that grounds you. In the roaring cheers of the audience, it is much too easy to lose yourself. 

Racing feet. Your blood mixes with the sharp rocks that line your path away from your pursuers. Your sisters cut down and captured one after another. Tears down your cheeks, blood on your feet, you looked every bit the fleeing half-nymph you were.

Your mind lingers on the hot sand underneath your feet. It holds the hot fury of the noon sun. So much so, you almost imagine the blood that has soaked into it to evaporate. 

Slippery sand. You crash into the river bed and make a break for it. You are strong for a half mortal. Though, it truly wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Not in any way that matters.

Just like the sand, the sun beats down on your form. You do not raise your sword in victory, you never have and never will in such a bastardly place. You were supposed to be living by the river with the kin you have always felt closest to. 

Artemis was not enough to protect you. She could retrieve your sisters, the full nymphs, but for ones with mortal blood? There was nothing she could do. Not as you were dragged kicking and screaming into a slave wagon.

The hot iron shackles burn as you’re dragged back to your cell. Your weapon taken, there is little you can do. It would be futile to think otherwise. You have seen what they have done to those who do not listen. It takes all your self-restraint not to join the brutish display they have turned into. 

Tossed into a wagon with bars made for animals. You do not see any of your sisters nearby. One final cry, and you realize they have all been struck down or captured. All your sisters had been under the tutelage of Artemis. An inspiring goddess. She is, perhaps, the only reason you had gotten so far in the first place. 

A solid kick to the back of your knee and you find yourself brought to your knees. Cleaned with buckets of water, your wounds are also seen too. Bandaged and tired you are finally allowed to rest on your meager cot. You do not know how long you have been fighting in this arena, and to be honest, you don’t really care. 

Watching your God prepare for a hunt was one of the most exciting parts about serving under her. To hear her wisdom, to feel her confidence, it was one of the most honorable things to experience. If only she had stayed a bit longer, there was nothing she could do from her eye in the moon. 

Your cot is stiff as a board as you lie down. You have been here long enough to require your own cell and actual provisions. Having never lost a fight, you have gained a bit of a reputation among the slaves that have lasted long enough to see you in action. There is no sense of kinship or camaraderie in this place. All the better, you do not need to become attached to someone who will eventually die by your hand. 

She was a thing of beauty and chastity with the way she held herself. You and your sisters looked up to her. Striving to hold a small fraction of the confidence and beauty she inspired. Her teachings had always left you feeling accomplished. Her wisdom with the bow creating a small army of followers all armed. Those bows hadn’t saved you from the fire those men had caused. Hadn’t saved you from their dogs as they snapped at your ankles through the wagon. 

You are told that, eventually, you will have enough funds to buy yourself out of the ring. It's almost funny that your owners don’t realize you already know what happens to those who are close to leaving. Always struck down just before being able to. Every single time without fail they fall. And then, they have the gall to tell you that you only have a few more fights to go. At least they let you know of your soon to be death, perhaps you will see Keres, Lady Kristen, as she guides you to the otherworld. You will welcome her with open arms. There are many tales of her being beautiful. Her loyal crows are seen as harbingers of death if they linger too long. A ca-caw outside your barred window causes a rare smile to grace your lips. You used to think that crows were startling with their cadence. Now, you think of it as the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You had taken pride in your long flowing hair. The care and maintenance it required made you quite vain about its beauty. Those men had paid no heed to your screams as they cut it shorter than it has ever been. Once long hair rendered down to barely an inch. The sight of it on the floor collected around you only causes more righteous anger. They eventually tied a strip of cloth around your mouth just to shut you up.

The moonlight gazes in from your barred window. You make no move to show yourself to a god you know is not watching. You lost your hope she would come long ago. Lost it in the first blood you spilled into the sand of that hell pit. While it is hell, it has become your new home. If these people denied your right to a death in your old home, they will be forced to accept your death in this new one.

You cannot speak, cannot eat, and cannot drink - as they have made sure of it. The fight you had put up against your captors wasn’t worth it. They have denied you meager offerings of food and water. The other women captured in the slave wagon get your portion. They do not look at you while they fight over your food. Reduced to nothing, all you can do is watch. 

You have watched many other slaves come and go from the arena. Many of those you cut down yourself in a bitter attempt to survive. Their features all blend in together and meet you for their revenge in your dreams. Sometimes, when you’re well and truly tired after a match, it's almost like you can hear them.

“Will we ever meet any other gods and goddesses, Lady Artemis?” One of your sisters asked. You and your sisters have only ever met Lady Artemis. Artemis stops attending to her bow, looking up you see a pensive look has overtaken her face. “Other gods and goddesses can be fickle. They can be much more cruel than I have ever been and ever will be. I would not seek out those you have not met before. Especially the gods who live and breathe violence. They will not be kind to you.” The garden goes quiet with her words. The sister that asked looks like she just bit into a lemon. Violence and bloodshed scares all of your sisters equally. They have not had to watch mortals be struck down by swords or illnesses, not in the way you have. 

With a bone deep weariness, you force yourself to stop thinking of the past. You think of these memories every day. Fighting for your life cannot even take away your attention from what was. There is no god that can save you - no peaceful one anyway. 

Drifting into sleep, you get the odd feeling that you are being watched.

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.

[sexymira]

Yes come, crawl slowly to my feet. Worship my feet, kiss my feet and suck on my toes🦶🏻🤭🥰

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

societies that demonize children and child bearing when their population starts its dramatic decline and women still refuse to have children: 😮

[lanablinks]

Want a sub sex toys

[illusions-in-octarine]

On the list of people I would never have been interested in, Renna's near the top. Yet Xelia Mendes-Jones brought it. I am So Invested. This is what one woman has become in her native Seanchan culture. Power-hungry and mentoring and tempermental and brutal, all in the service of breaking another human. She's been trained for this. You can tell. She's good at it and she's proud of that and I have never felt prouder of Egwene than when even Renna cracked - when her pride was damaged by Egwene's steel.

This isn't the face of a woman who feels like she's won. This is the face of a woman who's angry she couldn't conquer the other person sooner.

Egwene may have broken for a single cup of water. But Renna broke her calm for it too.

[buccellato]

Fucks me up to think about how Legato's legacy in-universe after his death in Trimax (and presumably Tristamp) is probably gonna be how much he sucked and nothing else....

Like, nobody will like Knives but Vash will be long-lived enough to be able to eventually talk about his good qualities from when he was a child and his quasi-redemption in his last days. But who remembers Legato? Livio and Vash are the only living people with any extended memory of him and neither of them would have anything nice to say (and rightfully so). Neither of them probably knew he was a slave, either—as far as Vash can tell this dude showed up one day and hated his guts, for all he knows he's just another survivor from July! Outside of Knives, Elendira, Legato, and maybe Conrad, I don't think any other character knows his actual life story.

And to add on to that, there's no way of looking up that past either—he had no name or personhood before he was effectively rescued, so who could investigators or reporters or archivists track down for information? The human being that was Legato only existed for as long as he knew Knives, before that he was something to be kept and abused as an object. There's presumably no surviving family they can reliably contact, nobody to really say "yes I knew him, here's what his life was like, here's how we can prevent something like this from happening again".

His entire existence will be reduced down to "a human weapon that was freakishly loyal to public enemy #1" without any reflection on the mechanisms that made him the way he was because there's just no actual knowledge of his life.

[fromtheseventhhell]

When Dany and Arya are the first Targaryen/Stark duo to interact and people start seeing the light on Daenarya >>>>>>

[arlathen]

anyway the worst part is like. i get it. i can follow the logic. veilguard was a hail mary, it was a swan song, it was a game intended to be as blandly palatable as possible so as to appeal to the average gamer because it needed to be as financially successful as possible so studio didn't get shut down -- and it yet may get shut down. so they had to shave off as much discomfort-inducing stuff as possible. it has to be a consequence-less hero fantasy. there are complicated games where you are forced to make a lot of hard decisions and face the consequences of those decisions but that's a risk, that's a needle you have to thread, and bioware was not in a position to take a risk. veilguard is designed to be as mass-appealing and safe as possible and i understand why but that doesn't make me any less sad about it.

[kossithmercar]

Question for the chat: if vallaslin are blood writing used by the Evanuris to channel blood magic to control the their slaves, could you say that Solas little blood magic trick on Rook is similar to the intent behind the vallaslin? Or worded in a less circumvent way, it’s Solas blood magic usage on Rook enough to argue for the reading that Solas enslaved Rook, thus crossing a line that put him closer to the Evanuris than he ever was?

After all, he used blood magic to manipulate Rook’s will and mess with their mind, and we truly don’t know how deep the control was. Do we?

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

The Many Names of Peace (pt.3/?): Communication

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Child murder (discussed).

Rape/Sexual assault (discussed)

Slavery and sistemic oppresion (discussed)

Human/Sapient rights violations (discussed)

Ruusan Reformation (derogatory) (discussed in detail)

The mission was nothing complicated, just a standard corporate dispute. However, the intel didn't say a word about the pirate blockade on the orbit of Quarzite, not a single sound about how both corporations were using slave labor, or about the genocide going on on the planet.

Because the mission wasn't about those things. It doesn't matter that both corporations were using child slaves right in front of their noses, or that the planet belongs to the people the belugans are subjugating, oppressing, killing and enslaving.

The ade, Terith observes with concern, are terrified of them and the Jet'verde. One of them, a girl of near-human species, is clinging ont the Jet'ad for dear life and watching the adults surrounding them with mistrust. Terith's heart breaks a little.

"Agisti, Kenobi" the kage Jedi greets the Padawan-brother of her Shadow-brother. "It seems you found trouble again."

Kenobi sighs, looking a strange mixture of proud and exasperated. "It was all my Padawan this time, Jexha…"

Zahara smiles, a little amused. "Valehnan Jexha Zahara."

The Jetii approaches the scared ade, and kneels in front of them in order to put herself on the same level. She whispers something in a language Terith doesn't understand, but some of the ade seem to. The little girl clinging to the Jetii'ad relaxes once she hears the language, and calmly lets go of the boy's arm. Then, she turns to the other kids.

"She's a Warrior, she's Kin" the little girl says, switching into Basic, "and a Jidai. She doesn't mean us any harm."

The Jetii'ad looks surprised and confused, and a few other emotions that cross his face too quickly to be identified. However, the children immediately relax at hearing the girl's words. Apparently, whatever Heliost said was enough to make herself trustworthy.

Zahara smiles softly. "Don't worry. None of the people here will hurt you" she promises, and the look she gives Terith makes the clear threat of or else. "Do you have homes to return to? Kin?"

The children and Zahara switch to Kage again, and she manages to gather information about some of the children. She turns to the others.

"Most of these younglings are kages from Quarzite" she says in Basic, to make sure nearly everyone understands what she's saying. They'll be discussing these younglings' future, the least they can do is make sure the younglings understand them. "They are all from different Caves —homes, families—, and… some of them don't exist anymore. We have to make sure they all have places to stay in."

Then, she swallowed. "Others were stolen from families and homes in the Outer Rim, or bought from the Hutts. The others were taken too young to remember where they come from."

Anakin flinches slightly. He hopes nobody notices, but they all seem to be busy discussing what to do with the child- younglings.

They finish returning the kage ade to their homes and aliit a full standard day later. Now, the only thing left to do is return the remaining ade to their people or, in case they can't, find them a new home.

There is a tense silence in the subtram back to their ship. The recently freed younglings are wary of the three Jedi and the Mandalorian, even after Anakin freed them, and Zahara and Obi-Wan are obviously uncomfortable with a Mandalorian so close. Jedi and Mandalorian animosity runs deep.

The little kage girl that spoke to Zahara is roughly four standard, but turns five —according to her— in a few months. She's Force-sensitive, judging by her question of why Terith doesn't have "colors".

Zahara swallows a relieved sigh, but her shoulders still relax. Anakin hates it, how nobody cares about slaves unless they are Force-sensitive, how the Jedi do nothing about the planets in the Outer Rim or even the Couruscant underwold. So much for compassion.

There is tense silence as Obi-Wan, Boma and the Mandalorian sit around the table on Terith's ship, drinking slowly from their cups of tea. Hadia, the kage girl, has already drunk her whole cup, while Anakin's sits on the table untouched.

Is this what everyone does? Drinking tea instead of freeing slaves?

"How did you end up working with a Mandalorian, anyway? I thought, well, after…" Obi-Wan says, attempting diplomacy to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Not every Mando'ad is the same, even within the same faction" offers Terith. "Two verde, five opinions, as they say."

"It was you two, especifically" Zahara explains. "Terith despised the idea of a missing youngling, and I needed help to find you."

"Children are the future" adds Terith, sounding like they are quoting a sacred tenet of a creed they are part of. "If it helps… my clan will take care of any child we cannot bring back to their families."

Zahara clenches her jaw. "How wonderful for those you see as children."

The kage Jedi says it in a low mutter, but not low enough to avoid being heard by the Mandalorian.

"Look, you don't owe me the story of your pain" Terith tells her, having a silent conversation Anakin isn't privy to. "But Jaster's faction, the Haat'Mando'ade? We don't kill children. Nu draar, not ever. We are not Kyr'tsad."

Zahara sighs, but doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she turns to the younglings. "Anakin, Hadia, I'm about to explain something gross and disturbing to Terith, okay? I think you should leave. It's not a burden I want to put on you"

Hadia nods, and Anakin has to swallow the sharp retort that wants to come out of his lips. "Alright."

Hadia, still holding Anakin's hand, drags him out of the dinning room.

Whatever Knight Zahara said to the Mandalorian —Terith, they'd introduced themselves— was enough to make them feel disturbed. Anakin can feel their horror, even with their Force-presence muted through the armor.

"Mister Terith, are you okay?" Hadia asks.

The Mandalorian takes off their helmet and smiles, ruffling Halia's white hair gently. "I'm okay, just… learned something a bit upsetting. I'll deal with it."

Zahara and Obi-Wan come next. Obi-Wan squeezes Zahara's arm, and she smiles and squeezes his. They let each other go, and walk up to Anakin.

"Anakin" Obi-Wan begins, and swallows. "Can we speak alone for a moment?"

Anakin hesitates, not sure if he wants to deal with a lecture after the day he's had, but… Obi-Wan seems tired and worried, about him, and his chest tightens.

He hadn't wanted to worry Obi-Wan. He swallows the lump in his throat. "Yes, Master."

Zahara raises a brow at the form of adress, but doesn't say anything. Together, she and Obi-Wan lead Anakin into the dinning room of Terith's ship.

Anakin and Zahara sit down, as Obi-Wan pours his fellow Knight and himself a cup of tea. Anakin doesn't understand the Jedi's obsession with tea.

Zahara takes her cup to her lips immediately, while Obi-Wan leaves his on the table, waiting for his tea to cool down a little before drinking it.

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence, with none of the Knights knowing what to say and Anakin expecting the scolding to begin any time soon. Finally, Obi-Wan starts.

"What you did was very brave, Anakin" His Padawan flusters at the praise. "You did what was right even when it was hard, and I'm very proud of you."

Anakin's cheeks turn hot and red. He… hadn't been expecting the praise.

"But it was also reckless" Obi-Wan goes on. "There are many things that could have gone wrong, things you didn't consider."

Anakin feels anger rising. "I was trying to free the slaves!"

Knight Zahara sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. "Do or do not, Skywalker. There is no try." She leaves her cup of tea on the table.

"You're very lucky Hadia is Force-sensitive and under the age limit" Obi-Wan explains to his Padawan, with slowly dying calm. "You could get into great trouble if we don't thread carefully."

Anakin's anger explodes, and with it so does Zahara's cup of tea. The Valehnan barely shields herself and Obi-Wan in time to stop the hot water from burning them. "I was freeing slaves! I shouldn't need a justification for that! I don't need to tell the Council what I'm doing every second of my time so they can argue about everything and waste my time!"

Zahara picks up the broken teacup, using the Force to avoid cutting herself, and throws it into the trashcan. She's projecting calm into her expression, but the kage doesn't manage to hide her frustration in the Force.

"There is no could, there is no should, only what you must do." The kage Jedi says, words of wisdom beyond Anakin's reach flowing through the air and the Force. "You're right, you shouldn't need permission to do the right thing and free slaves. But we don't live in an ideal galaxy, and right now you do need authorization to fight slavery."

"Jedi must follow our mandates, Anakin" Obi-Wan tells him honestly. "We can't act however we wish, even if it's right."

"You sound like we are slaves at the orders of the Council! Jedi are free, we should-!"

Zahara grabs another cup and pours herself some tea. While she does that, she cuts Anakin off. "We are not, Skywalker."

Anakin's anger quickly turns to confusion. "What do you mean…?"

Obi-Wan sighs tiredly. "What do you know about the Ruusan Reformation, Anakin?"

Anakin blinks at the sudden change in subject.

"It's a peace treaty signed after the last Jedi-Sith Wars."

"In theory" Zahara allows. "In practice, it's… something else."

The kage Jedi and Obi-Wan exchange a glance. Then, all emotion disappears from their faces, but their Force signatures grow… louder.

"At the end of the New Sith Wars, a thousand years ago, the public view of the Jedi had shifted." Obi-Wan explains slowly, carefully. "Most of the galaxy doesn't understand the difference between a Jedi and a Sith, and coming from a centuries long war that caused a technological regression we are still recovering from…"

Anakin finishes his Master's sentence, sounding hesitant and almost hoping he's wrong. "People blamed the Jedi?"

Zahara sighs. "Yes. We were blamed for things we didn't do and for things we couldn't do even if we tried. That's why the Ruusan Reformation was written in the first place: to limit the power that Jedi could wield" The kage Jedi swallows the lump in her throat. "First thing they did was take away our power to participate in the political process, which means we cannot be representatives for any planet or system in any government, have representation in said governments, nor are we allowed to vote."

Anakin's face turns a shade paler. "But… isn't voting a right for all citizens of the Republic?"

"Yes" Zahara replies, and doesn't elaborate, lets Anakin reach his own conclusions. The Padawan doesn't like the conclusions he's reaching to.

"Next was… the demilitarization of the Order, right? I remember Quinlan talking about it" Obi-Wan adds.

Knight Zahara nods. "They took our armor, back-up and defenses, basically everything but our Lightsabers" She takes a sip of her tea. "This means that zabraks and kages, for example, cannot own their cultures' traditional weapons."

Anakin remembers an old male zabrak slave, who had always lamented the loss of his staff, and feels sick to his stomach.

"It gets worse" Zahara warns him.

"How…" Anakin swallows. "How does it get worse?"

"Jedi must follow their mandate, in theory to prevent abuse of power" Obi-Wan explains.

"In practice, it means the Senate can… request favors from us, and we are not allowed to refuse" Zahara tells him. Anakin's anger resurfaces.

"You mean they can use us as Blood Slaves, Pleasure Slaves and… they don't suffer consequences" Anakin says between gritted teeth.

Zahara, notably, doesn't deny it. "They also added other impositions, such as not allowing members of the Corps to carry Kaitahj or nevi padib being sent to the Corps if a jaieh hasn't chosen them once they turn their species equivalent of thirteen."

"Our ability to free slaves is one of those things they restricted" Obi-Wan adds mildly, but Anakin can feel the frustration underneath the calm surface prickling on his skin. "A Jedi cannot free slaves without prior Senate authorization… unless there is an enslaved Force-sensitive youngling, and the Jedi in question is a Finder."

"The youngling must also be taken into the Order" Zahara adds.

Anakin feels the weight of guilt and anger sink its claws into his stomach.

Jedi aren't free, he isn't free, and now he's condemned Hadia to the same fate.

"I wonder what it says about the galaxy that the Order is still the safest place for a Force-sensitive youngling to grow up in" Zahara mutters.

"Jedi can leave the Order and get the full rights of a citizen of the Republic" Obi-Wan adds softly.

Anakin feels anger curl up in his stomach, the familiar frustration that comes with powerlessness. That's not a choice, that's only cruel. Nobody should choose their culture, their traditions, their identity, or their freedom.

It's like the ghost of a choice he and his mother had in working in Watto's shop, the same choice Dancing Girls have in their outfits. Just an ilusion.

He remembers his mother's words, Elder Tena's soft explanation, what they had never managed to teach him because he didn't want to understand, because he'd been afraid of understanding.

There are a hundred ways to be a slave. Gold and jewels can still be chains.

Anakin's heart hurts. He wants… he wants to do something.

"Is there anything we can do?" Anakin asks, voice soft and timid.

Zahara nods and gives him a quick smile. "Yes, I have a plan" She drinks her tea, and adds: "I'm registered as a Finder, and Hadia is four standard, which is within the age range imposed by the Senate. We can simply say that I was on planet and Hadia was enslaved there, so after she was freed I took her to the Order."

"It's the truth." Obi-Wan replies, face in a cold mask but with amusement and defiance coloring his Force signature.

"From a certain point of view" Anakin is certain that Zahara takes her teacup to her mouth to hide her smirk.

Anakin is familiar with these games, these half-truths and careful lies told in order to hide dissent, the keeping of secrets done to get whatever smidge of freedom one could get. He knows the Tongue of Slaves intimately, even if he's never been good at it. Perhaps it's time to start learning another language.

His life dream of freeing all the slaves hasn't changed. It only has one more step. He and the Jedi will break their chains, and together they will free the slaves from the Outer Rim.

No chain or cage can hold a Sky Walker forever.

Dai Bendu

Agisti — hello, hi, a greeting between equals

Jexha — Jedi Knight, title.

Valehnan — Jedi Shadow. Lit "Master of physical darkness" Zahara is introducing herself as a Shadow who has completed her training.

Xari — Darkness, Dark Side of the Force. Although in this context Zahara doesn't mean it literally.

Imkai'ans — murderers without sense or cause, people who kill without good reason, for its own sake. The worst thing you can call someone in Dai Bendu (it's very accurate for Death Watch and the Finder-slayer though)

Enishee — crechemate

Kaitahj — Lightsaber(s)

Nevi padib — the Initiates

Mando'a

Ad(e) — child(ren)

Jet'verd(e) — Jedi Knight(s)

Jetii'ad — Jedi child, Padawan or Initiate

Buy'ce — helmet

Mando'ad(e) — Mandalorian(s)

Jetii — Jedi (singular)

Aliit — family, clan

Verd — warrior

Haat'Mando'ade — True Mandalorians, followers of the Super Commando Codex and the Rewritten Canons who recognized Jaster Mereel and later Jango Fett as the rightful rulers of Mandalore

Kyr'stad — Death Watch. Lit "dead society"

Nu draar — a very strong no, not on your life, absolutely not, not ever, rather cut my eye out with a fork than do that. Lit "not never", since Mando'a uses double negative for emphasis

Jetiise — Jedi (plural)

Mandokar — epitome of Mandalorian virtue: courage, tenacity, loyalty and lust for life. Although in this case they're praising Zahara's guts

Shig — spicy Mandalorian drink similar to tea

Demagolka — someone who commits atrocities, war criminal, someone who hurts children, a real life monster. From the scientist from the time of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, a figure of hate and dread in Mandalorian culture

Mand'alor — leader of the Mandalorians

Kage Language

Jidai — Jedi

"The mission wasn't about those things". Jedi cannot act without explicit Senate authorization, in theory to prevent abuse of power. In practice to keep them on a leash.

The belugan corporations were using enslaved kages as employees because that way they don't have to pay salaries. Anakin Anakined the whole thing and decided to free the slaves. He freed most of them, mainly the children, but others were killed.

Zahara doesn't have a last name because Kage Warriors don't do surnames the same way we do. They mean something, such as a vocation or an experience you went through, and Zahara hasn't decided upon one yet.

Baby Anakin is suffering from severe imposter syndrome and is trying to make himself fit into the Order. He's hiding his Tatooine accent, he doesn't tell anybody about the culture he was born in and tries to immitate the Jedi he meets. What he hasn't realized yet (partially because of internalized biases, partially because of Palpatine) is that the Jedi want him to keep his culture and traditions, that many Jedi have accents from nearly every planet and that they don't know he was a slave.

The atmosphere of Quarzite's surface is Type IV, which is incompatible with any form of life (save for perhaps some kinds of bacteria). However, its caves are deep and, just like some caves in real life, have their own atmosphere, where sapient life is possible. Most ships are not equipped to the pressure, winds or storms of the Quarzite atmosphere, so people have to take subtrams to travel from one breathable space to another.

Jedi are a culture that drinks tea often, since many of them tend to find the flavors and/or textures soothing. Anakin doesn't know this, but Zahara and Obi-Wan made different teas with different flavors for everybody, because they have different tastes. Terith, on the other hand, is drinking shig (a spicy Mandalorian drink).

Anakin is still a baby and doesn't understand that freeing slaves is not something that can be done just like that. It requires careful planning, money, manpower and resources that the Jedi don't have. The restrictions of the Ruusan Reformation don't help, either.

If you've realized, Terith uses a lot of Mando'a words, even when they know Zahara doesn't speak Mando'a and neither does (as far as they're aware of) Obi-Wan. However, Zahara and Obi-Wan do not speak Dai Bendu in their presence save for a couple words, and they are speaking to each other, not to Terith. This is because Terith, like most Mandalorians, is not used to people not speaking the same language, Basic is their second language, and they're not fully fluent yet. However, Zahara and Obi-Wan are well trained diplomats who have dealt with people who didn't speak Basic, people who didn't want to speak Basic, people who couldn't speak Basic and are used to switching languages when necessary.

Terith doesn't know what enishee means. However, they can guess that it's either sibling, friend or the name of weird Jedi relationships like Padawan. But they can understand thanks to context. Basic sucks.

Jaster is still alive because I said so. He's a massive nerd too because I love that characterization for him.

My intention with this fic is, aside from spiting the Jedi-hate and Mando-worship of the fandom, adressing the horrible history Mandalorians have with Jedi. Despite this, I'm intending to be kind to most Mandalorians that show up on screen. Terith is a decent person that's horrified by everything they're learning (spoiler alert: it's bad) and I intend to give the same kindness to many other Mandalorian characters because, in the end, I believe most people are good (or at least not evil) and many Mandalorians would want to fix things and make amends however possible (giving braids and Lightsabers back, giving those who murdered children to justice, etc).

"A bit upsetting" AKA it's really bad and I'm barely holding on, but I don't want to worry you.

Most Jedi only call their Masters that word in Basic when there are people they don't want to find out about Dai Bendu (politicians, mainly) or when they're upset. Hence Zahara's reaction.

In case anyone's curious, Quarzite is an Inner Rim planet and as such is connected to Couruscant by a public transport network, despite its proximity to Mandalorian space (in this fic, I did artistic lisense on the GFFA map). Zahara didn't want to draw attention to herself while searching for Anakin, and it's standard procedure for Shadows to hide their Jedi status whenever a Jedi goes missing, because it's assumed there was a Jedi hunter involved until proven otherwise. However, now that she's found Anakin, Obi-Wan and the half a dozen or so slave children that tagged along, she's not willing to go by public transport and draw attention to the children they're smuggling out of the planet.

"There is no could, there is no should, only what you must do." A kage saying. What's done is done, it is what it is, and you must do your duty regardless. In this context, she's telling Anakin that it's useless to dwell on what should be happening, because it's, by definition, not happening. There are things that should be but aren't, and Jedi must act according to the present, not the past, possible future or alternate reality.

"Blood Slaves" Slaves whose masters use them as assassins, the very common fate of Force-sensitive slaves.

Elders are, in my version of Tatooine slave culture, slaves who have survived hardships and passed trials, for a lack of better word, and are revered by other slaves for their wisdom. Their role is similar to that of a Jedi Master (because the role of wise mentor is present in many cultures, and not all slaves have parents or guardians), but not quite the same. Anakin will, like many other Jedi, learn to balance his birth culture with the life of a Jedi.

"There are a hundred ways to be a slave." Saying in Hutt Space, where slaves make up over half the population. Not all slavery looks the same, some kinds are worse than others, but all in all it's the same shitty situation. The second part of the idiom, "gold and jewels can still be chains", means that even the people that look the most privileged can still be enslaved to something. Jedi live in a pretty Temple, but that doesn't mean they are free or the elite. In fact, as Anakin realizes, they are the complete opposite.

"Tongue of Slaves" AKA lying, misleading, deceiving, flattering and keeping secrets from slaveowners.

"Sky Walkers" is what the slaves from Hutt Space call themselves. It's a reference to a long extinct red bird species native to Tatooine, wiped out when the Hutts took over. The saying "no chain or cage can hold a Sky Walker forever" is born out of a sentiment of hope and defiance, a way of telling themselves they will be free one day, even if what gives them freedom is death. It's used as a last name for slaves who don't have one.

I'm not very satisfied with this one, so if it suffers any surprise editions you know why.

[hold-him-down]

☺️ - Soft words of reassurance for Leo

“You’re doing good,” Dante says flatly, semi-awkward in the way he rubs circles on Leo’s back. Leo, on his hands and knees, presses his forehead into the linoleum and closes his eyes. The directive to ‘keep him alive for ten fucking minutes,’ had been spat at Dante as they were both shoved into one of the smaller rooms in the basement, which, Dante thought, was a little bit ironic considering he was the one who had pulverized Leo just five minutes earlier.

Leo gags again, and Dante closes his eyes. The red that covers the floor makes him a little queasy himself, in spite of how many times he's been in this exact position. He leans back on his heels next to Leo and pats his head once before running his fingers through his matted hair. He sees why Petrov likes him. There's an innocence to him that runs in direct opposition to his absolute refusal to do as Petrov tells him.

“There you go,” Dante says again as Leo retches. “I think it’s best if you let it out.” 

Leo nods and collapses onto his side. He seems to be breathing okay, which is nothing short of a miracle, but Dante felt the distinct crunch of ribs earlier in the evening following a particularly poorly-aimed blow. To his credit, he thought Leo would move, even if only slightly, to dodge his fist.

He didn’t, though. And now they’ll both be in trouble for it. 

Dante finds a spot of clean tile and sits, resting his arms on his knees as he regards Leo. The newest worker on Petrov's preferred roster is two months in, and to his knowledge, Leo has not landed a single hit in a fight. Petrov has his odds now at 33/1, which is as bad as they can be, and still, every night, he bets on him. 

Petrov thinks he’ll break him eventually, and is ready to recoup his losses when it happens. Looking at Leo now, ghost pale and, minimally, out of the fights for at least a week, Dante isn’t so sure.

“You gotta try harder,” Dante whispers to him. Leo’s eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. He swallows, and even that looks painful. He feels an inkling of regret toward how hard he fought that evening when Leo opens his eyes, unfocused and devoid of all any recognition at all. But he swallows that back, because regret is useless in a place like this. There is only survival, and in spite of how little Leo appears to value it, Dante intends to make it out of this contract, and one day, out of this fucking country. It's the only thing that matters to him, but, he thinks, that doesn't mean he needs to leave a line of casualties in his wake. "Try harder next time," Dante whispers. "It'll be so much easier if you do."