#if you want the lightsaber disengaged

[roguedoodles]

Well? Will you?

(Wordless/Full Pic Below)

[vadersassistant]

Within Close Proximity One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After (Y/N) saves the dark lord, he finally acts on his feelings for her. Takes place during the season finale of Kenobi.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death.

Wait on the ship, he had told her, and she respected his wishes willingly. In truth (Y/N) knew Vader only wanted to protect her. This was his fight, it needed to be, for him to truly move on, because this was his worst enemy. This was the man who had locked him in that black suit, the man that justified the need for Vader. Still, hearing the two sabers clash outside became unsettling, wondering who’s was really taking the hits. She even heard rocks falling, like they were throwing them at each other.

It was only until she heard a familiar voice shout that she questioned what he asked for.

“OBI-WAN!”

Something shook the ship, a force of some sort making it tremble. It was most definitely him, no man could ever make that kind of sound with that low of a voice. She put her stuff away unforgivingly and decided on peeking to see if everything was alright. Slowly, looking out from the underbelly of the ship, (Y/N)’s eyes landed on a man falling, his blue lightsaber crumpling with him. The large rock figures behind the man showed a red glow, the two shadows pressed onto it. She saw the Sith’s shadow standing over him, before the saber disengaged, and watched him fall to the ground.

“Vader!” she immediately called out, running over.

There was a slight noise, faint but still clear. It sounded like wheezing, rather than Vader’s usual respirators sound. As she turned the corner, she saw the man up close, blade wound right near his heart, most definitely dead. It was gruesome, but not impactful, like the man beside him had become. Vader sat kneeling over, his chest box beat inward, armor similarly nicked and scratched, a blazing cut on his back. He was trying to crawl over to the ship, so far beaten and yet victorious at the same time.

(Y/N)’s heart had dropped, being quick to come to his side.

“Let me help you,” she ushered. “I’ve got you.”

Vader was massive compared to her, compared to most in the galaxy in general. He was way over six foot, a mass of muscle and armor that surely weighed a tun. It was stupid for her to try and carry him, and yet she did anyways. Taking his arm around her neck, she took hers around his waist, holding on gently but firm enough to get a good grip. (Y/N) already had a strategy, as she mustered up all the emotion she could to lift the two up. With a determined grunt she pushed off her knee to bring the two up to their feet, immediately walking over.

The force swept around the two, his body heat kept her warm on the cool planet. He was using it to assist her, leaning his weight on her side while having the force keep both steady.

“Is it just your chest box and back?” (Y/N) asked.

‘Yes,’ his voice echoed in her mind, not wanting to truly speak.

Vader watched over her face the entire walk there, seeing her become so determined over someone she was loyal to. (Y/N) was naturally motherly, the type of person to pay you back ten fold if you did something for her once. She understood how hard this was but was blinded by the idea of helping her friend, innocently unaware of the fact he just murdered the man beside her. Unaffected by the fact he tormented the galaxy, murdering hundreds of thousands. It was in the name of the Empire, he was keeping order.

“I’ll fix you up, no worries,” she assured him as they boarded the ship.

She led him to the little med bay in the back, sitting him down on the hard cot by the wall. There was already a medical droid prepared to handle his suit, but she had made up her mind on tending to his back. Going to the other side of the room, she took off her officer’s jacket, leaving a white undershirt in its place. All she needed was to clean the wound and apply Bacta cream, seeing as it only burned the skin rather than cutting into it; his armor was thick, a barrier in these cases.

Vader kept his eyes on her beneath his mask, taking her in as she worked to help him. He traced her curves, noticing how well she hid herself in the jacket. She turned around, smiling softly to the Sith lord with items in hand.

“May I?” (Y/N) asked him.

‘You may,’ he spoke through the force.

She slowly sat on the cot herself, in the position where she was behind Vader as his legs sat over the edge, feet resting on the ground. It was ironic, how even when sitting on her knees he was taller, and wider. His shoulders were broad, essentially hiding the medical droid from her view. Before touching his cloak, she thought about asking permission as well, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

‘Do not be afraid, do as you please,’ it was like it was whispered into her ear, the closeness making her shiver.

Vader sat still as her hands went around his neck, gently unclasping the chain of his cloak and taking it off. He relished in the feeling of her being so close, pleased with how submissive and obedient she had always been. It was no secret to the Sith that he liked her, he never tried to fight it off, or shy away from taking up the opportunity. She would be his, and he could feel her attraction to him. He sensed (Y/N) biting her lip in concentration, cleaning up the burn with an alcohol wipe.

“Does this hurt?”

‘No.’

Soon enough she applied the Bacta cream, rubbing slow circles onto his skin where she could. She was in deep thought, a hand full of things crossing her mind. Vader paid close attention to the droid as he repaired his chest box, restoring his breathing back to normal with an odd hissing sound. (Y/N) wasn’t done yet, and Vader was pleased, waving he droid to go away.

“You won!” she exclaimed, patting his shoulder lightly.

“That is correct, Kenobi is no more,” Vader said.

“I’m proud of you,” she finished rubbing in the cream. “Even though my opinion doesn’t mean much.”

“Your opinion matters little one,” he urged.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) laughed, clasping his cloak back on.

“There is no place for gratification, I merely stated a fact.”

Vader stood up, only millimeters away from the lady in front of him as she sat on the cot still. He looked down at her, as she looked up, flustered.

“Of course,” she agreed, standing up.

Her breasts almost pressed against his chest, as he didn’t move an inch, or allow her space. Her irises shimmered in the translucent lighting, little bags weighing her eyelids down. It was only for a moment, as she scooted away as quickly as it started and put the tools she got out back in their place. A twinge of annoyance hit Vader, wanting to take advantage of the proximity while he still had it. He could feel it, he knew he wasn’t deceiving himself. She shied away because she was embarrassed of her own feelings, because she liked him and was flustered by the moment.

“Little one,” he called for her, as her back was towards him.

(Y/N) was trying to put one of the boxes of tools the droid had used back in its cabinet, struggling as it was the highest one.

“Yes?” she answered, wincing as she almost put a knee on the counter to get tall enough.

The Sith used the problem to his advantage, coming over to help. He pressed his body against hers, his figure hiding hers from the outside view. His two strong arms placed themselves gently on (Y/N)’s waist, hoisting her up with ease so she could put it away. Her thoughts were amusing, panicked and shocked as he held her. The woman’s face was madly red as he softly sat her down, keeping that protective hold on her stomach.

“Vader,” her words were breathy. “I—”

“I know.”

“You know?” she asked.

“I too share your feelings.”

“You do?”

“I do,” the lord assured.

“What are we going to do?”

“I would like to expand on our relationship, if you will have me,” he said.

“I would love to do that,” (Y/N) smiled, allowing herself to enjoy his touch.

She was obviously exhausted, her force signature prodding at her to go to sleep. Vader had just achieved two of his greatest victories this night. First, with his worst enemy, and second, with the love of his life. He picked her up bridal style before she could comprehend the action, hoisting her up like she was a feather and carrying her into the cockpit. Sitting (Y/N) down next to his seat, he unclipped his cloak and placed it on her.

“Rest, I shall pilot the ship,” Vader spoke.

“Good night, V,” she gave him a nickname as he sat down, now slowly dozing off.

“Good night, my dear.”

OMGGG VADER FLUFF?? Why of course

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Trust Only in the Force

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cal wants to vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master!” Cal shrieks.

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

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

They’re both dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cal. Trust only in the Force.”

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“Hey, did you see the coolant lines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is that?” Morq yells back.

“I’m gonna find out!”

“Be careful!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks.”

[carrinth]

You've been talking about Star Wars and Dragon Age recently and basically Anders shouldn't be allowed a lightsaber, but Justice should absolutely be given one.

I spent a bit too many brain cells on this and kinda got away from original prompt (sorry! >_<) but here's my crack idea for Anders and Justice in SW AU!

Anders is a runaway Sith Acolyte that crash-lands onto a marsh planet during his seventh escape attempt. He is unexpectedly rescued from his sith pursuers by a lone old man, who turns out to be one of the last surviving members of the Jedi Order, which was allegedly wiped out years ago.

Just as Anders thinks things are looking up, the creepy swamp man abruptly declares that he will take Anders as his padawan learner because "it is clearly the will of the Force."

Anders protests.

Jedi Master Justice insists.

“I sense much fear and anger in you,” the old man said disapprovingly. But then something in his hard stare softened for just a flicker, blue eyes searching. “But also a capacity for much compassion and fortitude as well,”

“Oh,” Anders could only say. “So... you're not going to kill me?”

The man finally disengaged his lightsaber with a flourish, clipping it back to his belt, much to Anders' immense relief. “No, but you must swear to abandon all your teachings of the Dark Side. Such evil has no place here,”

“Done!” Anders quickly agreed. “Never wanted to be a sith!” Really, all he wanted to do was escape to the nearest space port and disappear.

"Good," strange swamp man nodded, for the first time sounding pleased. "Then I accept you as my padawan learner,”

“Thanks-- wait what??”

“I had not thought I would take another padawan so late in life, but such is the will of the Force”

“What,”

“Your training begins tomorrow,”

“No! Wait! You can't just – I don't-- I just left the Sith! I don't want anything to do with the Force!”

But the crazed old man had already bent down and grabbed him rather securely by his collar like a limp tooka. There was unexpected strength beneath those gnarled, grizzled hands. "The Force led you here for a reason,"

No! An unguarded starfigher with a busted hyperspace calculator led me here! Anders wanted to scream but all his trashing was for naught and that was how Anders, former sith acolyte, was inducted into the Jedi Order by a senile marsh man.

And thus, this is why SW!Anders has a blue lightsaber yet can also shoot lightning. ⚡

(And yes after Master Justice dies heroically saving Anders and friends, Anders vows to avenge his fallen master, only for said master to continue advising/harassing him in Force Ghost form... ^_^;;)

(And yes the Chantry is basically the Empire in this version haha. Anders background is mostly unchanged in that he is taken as a child from his parents after showing Force Sensitivity but in this AU the Sith destroyed the Jedi so Anders is initially trained as a sith but later abandons the Dark Side to train as a Jedi. He's mostly successful and Justice helps encourage his compassion and fortitude, allowing him to access Force Healing, but there are times Anders still falls prey to his repressed anger and fury).

[enkisstories]

The combatents remain locked for painfully long seconds. Eventually Gavin manages to disengage and the duel is on again.

But Hank still has years of experience over Gavin and on top of that is a native force user, not a cheater with a helmet full of gadgets.

Suddenly Gavin de-ignites his weapon.

Momentarily startled, Hank remains in a defensive position. He doesn't follow suit in powering down his lightsaber, but neither does he advance.

Hank: "Grrrrr!"

Gavin: "I knew you couldn't do it. Strike a defenseless foe down."

Hank: "Looks like it. What made you so certain to bet your life on it?"

Gavin: "I'd love to say that the Force whispered it to me, but it was plain logic. You could have claimed the aspirant's red kyber crystal, but you just pocketed it and continued to use the blue one. You access the Force via the dark side, but your heart isn't in it."

Hank: "Fair enough. So what now?"

Gavin: "Back to Plan A? Rescue the prisoner and ride into the sunset... sunrise together? You said it yourself, that there's a lot wrong with our rule. The resistance could use an accomplished leader like General Sonderan."

Hank: "I can't commit to a heel face turn, even if I wanted. Connor needs help. His force powers have become unstable."

Gavin: "All the more reason to come with me. There are all kinds of experts in the resistance, one of them is bound to have an idea!”

Hank: "Listen... I don't ask where the resistance hideout is, and you in turn delay their operations. Give me a month to make a change, then maybe there is no more need to rebel."

What happened in the game: The sims had a "heated duel", that should have ended with a clear winner. About three quarters through, the interaction suddenly got crossed out and first Gavin, then Hank stopped fighting. Seeing Greylock approaches in these screenshots, I can only guess that he forced an interaction on Gavin, that disruped the fight?

[shadowmaat]

Mischief and Misinformation, part 2

(Part 1)

"Knight Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan turned to see a grinning Kit Fisto bearing down on him. His fellow Knight was a few years ahead of him in classes, and there were whispers he might be on track for the Council someday.

"Kit, I've been a Knight for two years, now," he smiled. "Throwing my title at me is getting a little old."

Kit laughed. "Says you!" He clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Do you have time for a spar? Or do your Knightly duties call you away from your resounding defeat?"

"You wish, Fisto!" Chuckling, he glanced at his chrono. Anakin would be in classes for another two hours, which should leave him plenty of time.

"I think I have enough time to show an old man the dangers of hubris!"

"Old man!" Kit clutched his chest, bare beneath his outer robe. "I think you meant handsome! Or clever. Or-"

"Save that energy for the salle, Kit." Obi-Wan winked. "You're going to need it."

-

After working out the rules and going through their warmup stretches, they launched into the spar without too much preamble.

Kit's style was flashy, which made for a good distraction to the power behind the showmanship. He also had a more fluid sense of movement, which was something Obi-Wan found common among the aquatic and amphibious species.

They traded good-natured barbs as well as saber strikes, but then Kit seemed to shift gears.

"I wanted to say how sorry I was about what happened to you on Melidaan," he said, leaping over him to attempt a slash at his back.

Obi-Wan blocked it, frowning. "What?"

Had he been offworld recently? A few smaller mission, but nothing dangerous, not with Ani to consider. The name did ring a vague bell, though. He tried a leg sweep, which Kit avoided by flipping up to the wall and launching himself in another direction.

"I know Master Jinn was a highly-respectable Master, and his loss still ripples through the Temple-"

Kit reversed direction, scored a tap against Obi-Wan's arm, and got a tap of his own for his effort.

'-but leaving you alone in a war zone for a year is unconscionable!"

"What?" Obi-Wan repeated, blocking another swing. "What war zone? Wait- Melidaan..." Memory started to bubble forth, along with an uneasy sense of déjà vu.

"Have you been in so many wars you can't remember?"

Kit's tone should have been teasing, but there was a degree of worry mixed in as well.

"No, I remember." He hissed as Kit got in another strike on his leg. "But Melidaan... Qui-Gon didn't abandon me there, certainly not for a year. We were there maybe a tenday, and Qui-Gon remained in charge of the mission until it was safe for us to leave."

Between storms and bombing, there hadn't been a way off the planet. Qui-Gon's attempts at mediation had failed. Obi-Wan had done what he could for the victims of both sides- including a group of children- but in the end, and with Master Tahl's condition worsening, they'd taken the first opportunity to leave and dump the problem back in the Senate's lap.

"I'm relieved to hear that."

Kit made a move Obi-Wan couldn't quite track and scored a final hit to his shoulder.

"Solah." Disengaging his blade he rubbed his shoulder. "Where did you read about the Melidaan mission? This isn't the first time someone's come to me with a spacer tale version of my own life."

It was Kit's turn to frown. "The mission archives. I heard about-"

Obi-Wan's comm went off. It was Master Bear, Ani's ropework instructor.

"Ani threw up all over the nets and has been taken to the healer," the gruff voice of the Harchian Master said. "You'd best see to him."

The comm clicked off and Obi-Wan swore under his breath. The cafeteria had been serving custard yesterday and he'd bet his lightsaber that Ani's vomit was primarily blue.

Kit shook his head, rattling the bands on his ahwey. "This is why I'm never taking on a padawan," he said. "Go see to Ani. We can finish catching up later."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, already striding for the exit. "I'd like to know what else the mission archives have to say about me."

As the doors closed he could hear Kit saying, "You aren't the only one."

[imaybelactoseintolerant]

Commander Luthal

Chapter Nineteen: The Chasm

Word Count: 3935

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Arwen and Denal snapped to attention straight away, both attempting to make contact with Captain Rex through their comms. Nothing.

She contemplated trying to use the computers in the factory, but that would mean leaking their private comms to CIS intelligence, and even if the entire factory was about to be destroyed, that wasn’t something she could risk.

“Quick, back up the vent! I’ll boost you up with the Force,” they both scrambled for the vent—Denal part way shimmed up the cable, and she nudged him upwards with the Force. Between the boosts she gave him, she kept herself steady with the cable. She would have liked to have given him one big boost, but as there was a desk directly over the vent, she didn’t want to risk ramming his head into it and knocking him out.

It took longer getting back up than it did  going down, but when she finally saw Denal climb out of the top of the vent she began a hastier ascent. By the time she climbed out, the room was a mess of metal, but no fallen clones, and Denal had already filled everyone in on what was happening.

“We need to leave, and fast. We don’t know how much time we have,” Denal said.

“Keep trying to get through to command, we might be able to get out a message to delay the bomb squad,” Captain Rex said. His helmet turned to Arwen, “Commander, take up the rear, make sure no one falls behind. I’ll take point—everyone move out, and stick together!”

Torrent Company went into action immediately, and even as she took up the rear of the group, she kept her senses extended as far outward as she could manage—admittedly not as far as she would have liked.

She never sensed anyone, and she suspected that the droids and Geonosians that had survived their attack had been informed of the impending bombing. It was a small mercy, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. Any enemy they came across, every second they spent trying to defend themselves, was time they could be spending putting more distance between them and that factory.

Arwen disengaged her lightsabers after the first few uninterrupted minutes, confident that she would sense an incoming blaster bolt with enough time to take action. By the time they finally left the bounds of the droid factory, marked by the sudden end of durasteel walls and replaced by the rock walls of the catacombs, a deep sense of foreboding had settled deep within her gut.

How long would it take a bomb squad to get to their location? How far away were they when they had received the distress signal? Just how much control did the CIS have over airspace?

There were too many unknown factors. They could be flying directly overhead, and she wouldn’t even know it, not with how deep underground they were. She supposed the fact that the rock wasn’t crumbling into boulders atop her head was a good enough sign that there had been some considerable distance between them. She could only hope there was just a little bit more, enough for Torrent Company to get somewhere safe when the factory exploded.

The pace was fast, but slower than they could realistically afford—yet, with the confined space of the catacombs, the sudden crossroads that frequently appeared, and the tunnels leading downward carved into the ground, they couldn’t go any faster.

The weight in her stomach deepened, and she could feel the hairs on her neck standing on end, but nothing was happening. Her stomach twisted, and she couldn’t tell if it was the Force trying to tell her something, or her own anxiety and anticipation.

She longed to sit and meditate—the traditional way, the way she never liked to do it, the way she never quite learned to do properly—to sort through the feelings, decipher whether or not it was a feeling she should trust, or one she needed to let go of. But there was no time for that, and she no longer had a master to help her meditate.

A deep rumble sounded behind her, and she stumbled slightly as the ground shook beneath her feet. The clones ahead stumbled too, and the sound of their plasteel armour smacking together as they crashed into each other could barely be heard as the rumbling grew louder, followed by a few dulled bangs.

Arwen held her breath, practically frozen in place, and several of the clones lay on the ground, half-ready to get up again, as they waited for the aftermath.

After several long seconds, the rumbling slowly died down, and a cloud of dust overtook them. Arwen squeezed her eyes shut, and once again lamented that she didn’t have protective head gear like her men. She huffed out a breath of air, making sure her airways were clear of dust, and wiped the reddish dust from her face.

“So we planted all those explosives for nothing?” Arwen squinted through the settling dust to look at Denal as he spoke, “I didn’t even get to hit the detonator!”

“At least we got clear of the explosion. With any luck, we’ll find an exit soon,” Arwen said.

“I’d settle for getting some signal on comms,” Captain Rex said, fiddling with his comm device, “Still nothing. We’re still too far underground.”

“We need to start going up somehow—should we go back the same way we came? Even though the entrance is caved in?”

Captain Rex nodded, “We should be able to get a signal if we can get through a bit of the rubble.”

The unspoken alternative was to move on if they couldn’t.

With a few quiet groans, everyone was on their feet again, and filed along behind Captain Rex as he set a hard pace onward—just because the factory had been bombed, didn’t mean they were in the clear. Arwen kept to the back once more, and though she hoped the pit in her stomach might lessen as they continued, it only deepened.

By the time they made it back to the place they came in, the knot in her stomach had twisted so much that she felt like she was about to vomit. Appo found his way to her, and by the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his helmet, she could tell he was a little worried.

“Something feels off—something’s felt off since we left the factory,” she said before he could ask.

“Don’t need the Force to know something’s off,” Appo said joked, though it did nothing to relieve the tension in the air, “Just feels like we got out too easy, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes flicking over to Captain Rex. He was getting a weak signal, and relaying a message to the Command Centre. She and Appo watched in silence as he received new orders.

“Command says to sit tight here,” Captain Rex called, “Airspace is being contested again, and we won’t have any cover if we go above ground. Rest while you can, but be ready to move at a moment's notice. They’ll give us a new rendezvous point soon.”

The resounding affirmatives echoed in the catacombs, and while Torrent Company hunkered down, Arwen stayed on her feet, watching the tunnels they had come from.

Her fingers twitched, and she pondered how her body’s reaction to stress and warnings from the Force could be so similar. Beside her, Appo shifted, his visor following her line of direction.

“Go rest, Appo. I’m sure it’s just… anxiety.”

Appo chuckled quietly, “Didn’t think Jetii felt things like that.”

She looked away from the endless dark of the catacombs for a few seconds, head tilting at the unfamiliar word, “Jetii?” She asked, completely butchering the pronunciation based on the way Appo wheezed beneath his helmet, “What’s that?”

“It’s Mando’a for Jedi.”

She hummed, looking back to the catacombs, “Well, Jedi do feel things like that, some more than others,” she thought about the number of times she had sat in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, desperately trying to get a handle on her emotions, and swallowed thickly, “We’re just meant to be better at controlling those feelings. At letting them go.”

Appo was quiet, and she supposed he understood what she had just said, or not said—that she wasn’t particularly good at managing these feelings, not right now.

“Why are you Jedi so set on controlling your emotions? Aren’t they just, y’know, normal?”

“They’re natural, yes,” she said, thinking of all the times the masters in the Temple had passed on this lesson, “But letting emotions get the better of you, allowing them to control your actions, is dangerous when you have the power of the Force. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering—and these are the root of the Dark side.”

“Dar’jetii,” at her inquisitive hum, he continued, “It means no longer a Jedi, or Sith in the right context.”

“Jedi and Mandalorians have a rough history, don’t they? I wish I had chosen to learn about it in the Temple—I went with Echani and Kaleesh cultures instead. Both warlike, which is why I chose them.”

“Big fan of war?” He joked, and she smiled despite herself.

“It was the best way to honour and learn about my people, about my home and traditions, in the Temple. I don’t remember anything about Eshan really. I barely remember the matron at my orphanage, just her name really.”

“You weren’t taken from your parents?”

“Didn’t have any. They didn’t want me,” she said softly. It wasn’t an old wound or scar—she had known it for as long as she could remember, and it had never really stung her like it should. The Jedi were her family, the only family she had ever really known. And the Jedi wanted her, they came for her.

“You don’t know that,” Appo said, sounding a little confused, “Do you? Do you remember them?”

“I never met them, but I don’t need to know them to know they didn’t want me,” she could feel the knot loosening in her stomach slowly, “On Eshan, we’re born into a caste system—your prospects are limited to your birth status, and unless you’re exceptional, there’s not much chance of ever advancing. It’s worse for orphans, especially ones whose parents never declared their birth status before leaving them. You can be a higher ranking soldier, but not much else is worth pursuing, because you’ll never be able to climb any higher. Children whose parents didn’t declare their caste are given surnames that place them in the lowest rank of society; Telatoli, Joona, Ordil, Oren—like my matron—Breveni, Fortuli, Yorden, Vilal, and Luthal.”

Appo was watching her now, silent as he took in what she was saying.

“Not giving your child your surname, or not declaring their caste, guarantees that they will be lowest in the caste system. It shows that your parents found something about your existence wrong, or dishonourable.”

“What if both the parents die and no one knew what caste they were? Or their names?”

“They get names to show they are above my caste—Authal, Garen, Iveni, Cevolen, Lutori, Urval, Namoona, Alial, Qoren. Their prospects aren’t that much better, but enough to make a difference.”

A name came to mind then, one she hadn’t thought of in a while. It was faint, fainter than Madam Oren’s memory.

“There was a girl named Lulien Garen at my orphanage—she was a few months older than me. We were so alike, even Echani had difficulty telling us apart. We used to pretend to be each other. You’d be amazed how differently people treat you, based on a name.”

She couldn’t remember much else—it was a wonder anything came to mind at all—but she remembered Lulien fondly, even if she hadn’t thought of her in years.

“Sounds harsh,” Appo said, leaning against the wall.

She just hummed, “It is what it is. Efforts are being made to change the caste system, but it’s slow goings—Echani are a people of tradition, even when it’s harmful, unfortunately.”

They fell into silence again, and though her anxiety hadn’t completely dissipated, she felt far more at ease than she had before. When Captain Rex relayed their new rendezvous point, Arwen and Appo remained at the back to make sure no one fell behind while Rex led the group.

They ran uninterrupted for a while—too long, her anxious kept telling her—before the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The ground was shaking before she could get a word out, rumbling in her ears and knocking her off her feet, along with everyone else. The stone cracked above them, bearing down, before settling. The dust cleared, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief—and then it happened again, and again—

“Move it! Everyone go!” Captain Rex ordered, and like a spell had been broken everyone got to their feet, sprinting ahead to get away from the slowly collapsing tunnel. Rocks began crumbling from above, small and sharp from the cracks made in the stone, then larger pieces, the size of a grenade, then bigger than theirs heads—Arwen looked forward, and could see the entire roof collapsing, crumbling with the weight of the what must have been a barrage of bombs above ground causing a cave in.

“Roof’s coming down!” She called out, but they couldn’t move any faster—they were already pushing as hard as they could go, and at this rate, none of them would be making it out alive.

It was easy to make the decision to stay behind, when it meant everyone else had a higher chance of making it out. It was less easy to actually do the work. She halted, reaching out her hands, trying to find the place in the roof that needed the most support, the part that would keep everything else up. After a few desperate seconds where she found nothing, she closed her eyes. Sometimes, the eyes don’t see what the Force can.

She reached out with her senses, projecting upward, forward, scanning the upper part of the tunnel. She could feel the cracks forming, the crumbling of the stone, the way some of the stone slotted against the other pieces, just barely kept from collapsing with the support—there.

She could feel Captain Rex’s presence in the Force near to it, and pressed against the caving section with all her strength. Her knees buckled immediately, and for a second it felt like she had the entire tunnel braced on top of her back. She opened her eyes, watched Torrent Company press forward, closer and closer to clearing the collapsing area.

All but Appo, who was only a few paces away from her, calling her name. She hadn’t heard it, hadn’t wanted to.

“Go! I won’t be able to hold it much longer!” Even letting the air out of her lungs felt like losing strength, like she might be crushed beneath the weight if she exhaled just a little too much.

Appo ignored her, rushing towards her, and if it wouldn’t risk collapsing the entire tunnel on half of Torrent Company, she’d Force push him all the way over to the other side.

“Go!” She yelled, and her hands shook, “I’ll find another way out eventually.”

Appo arrived at her side, “Not without backup, you won’t.”

She looked at his visor, wondering if she could muster the strength to Force push him at least halfway there, but her strength was already giving out—Torrent Company was in the safe zone, far enough away that she could barely hear Captain Rex yelled for them. Her hands fell, and the collapse continued. Appo grabbed her by the shirt, yanking her back. Her legs felt weak, and she was unsteady as she tried to run alongside him—if he wasn’t dragging her, she’d have fallen victim to the boulders falling behind them, she was sure.

He got them both clear of the collapse, and Arwen just barely stopped herself from collapsing onto the ground in relief. She settled for resting against the wall instead, breathing heavily while Appo fruitlessly tried to comm Captain Rex.

They left a message in the static, hoping Captain Rex might be able to hear them, but was just unable to respond. Appo folded his arms across his chest, and she looked away.

“We might be able to make it out from the factory bomb site? Unless you have any ideas?”

“I don’t,” he said, and they were silent for a few seconds, “Don’t do that again, Commander.”

“No promises, Sergeant.”

The pair of them began a steady run back the way they came—faster, now that it was only the two of them. Appo checked his comms every few minutes, hoping for a message, but one never came, and by the time they reached the factory bomb site, they were both certain that Torrent Company must have gotten clear of the catacombs.

“I’ve never been so glad to see desert in my life,” Arwen said as they neared the near blinding light at the end of the tunnel.

“This is the first planet I’ve been to outside of Kamino,” Appo said, “And I don’t think I’ll ever be this happy to be cooked alive in my armour ever again.”

The bomb site was huge—a crater of stone, sand, and metal, with large fires and plums of smoke wafting into the air. It made her cough, but the smoke made for decent cover, and should hopefully make them a little less visible to any stray aircraft overhead.

They couldn’t get a message through to Captain Rex until they reached the surface, and he was already being engaged by droid forces. He gave them the coordinates, and they were, unfortunately, back to running again. They could see the battle in the distance, taking place within a small area of craggy rocks in front of a small cliff face. They would make it there in good time, without all the twists and turns and holes in the ground they faced in the catacombs.

Bombers flew overhead—their own this time, and Appo whooped and cheered as they laid down a barrage of explosives straight on top of several tanks and walkers.

The most dangerous enemies were taken out, thankfully, and as the bombs continued to rain down, the ground beneath the droids grew more and more unsteady. With a groan, Arwen watched the sandy ground collapse, exposing another network of catacombs. It continued to eat at the ground, falling deeper and expanding outward, and Arwen and Appo both slowed to a stop. There was now a giant chasm between them and the rest of Torrent Company, but the collapse had destroyed all but a dozen or so droids, which were already being picked off by the men.

Appo commed Captain Rex again, and to their relief, no one from Torrent Company had fallen since they parted. They had orders to return back to the Command Centre, and it was very likely they wouldn’t be deployed again—Geonosis appeared to be won.

Prospects or the rest of the galaxy were not so great, but—

Appo’s comm device blinked, “Droid fighters inbound, they’re some of the last in atmosphere and they’re heading your way!”

The look she and Appo exchanged was less panicked and more annoyed—and the pair of them began racing forward towards the chasm. It was the closest thing they had to cover, provided they could reach it in time and find a tunnel entrance to hide in. Arwen looked over her shoulder, and saw the fighters far closer than she’d like. They were low to the ground, likely to avoid ground based missiles that didn’t register aircraft close to the ground, and they were gaining on them fast.

She commed Rex, “That chasm stable enough to hide in?”

“Not likely, sir. It's still collapsing in some places,” an explosion sounded, and a plume of smoke went up from inside, “And exploding, sir.”

“Good eye, Captain,” she replied, “Find cover, I don’t know if our guys will catch them on time.”

“Yes, sir.”

With the call ended, she checked over her shoulder again, just in time to see a red bolt zap past them and hit the sand. She could see republic troops behind trying to take them out from a distance. Panic began to set in, and she looked back at the chasm as they neared its edge.

“What do we do?” Appo yelled, now slowing down. Two more bolts hit the sand, both flying in between them, “Do we risk going in?”

Arwen’s heart raced, and she squinted, trying to see beyond the smoke. It was clearing, enough that she could just barely make out the other side. Another bolt landed between them, and Appo was nearly knocked off his feet. She made up her mind, “Sorry about this, but I promise you’ll hate it less than the cliff!”

“What—” Right as they neared the edge she halted, but lifted Appo slightly from the ground as she shoved him forward with the Force—he gave a quiet scream this time, and she still felt that rush of panic, of fear, from him. She brushed it aside as best she could. There was no time for guilt. Her feet skidded to a halt at the edge, and she didn’t move until she saw Appo land safely, if a little unsteady. Three bolts landed around her, and she heard an explosion in the far distance. She turned around, running back to get some distance between her and the chasm. She counted three CIS ships.

She turned back to the chasm, and in the clearing smoke she could see Appo waiting for her. Another explosion behind her. Two ships left.

Arwen surged forward, narrowly avoiding two bolts as she moved to the side. She picked up speed quickly, used the Force to buffer her movement—she’d never had to use it so much in her life, never. She neared the edge, and the ships were close enough that she could hear the engines rattling in her eyes, feel the vibrations in her feet every time they hit the sand.

A slew of bolts landed around her, and then another explosion. One left.

It was close, too close, any closer and she would be nothing more than a bug on the windshield. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end again, and as she reached the edge of the chasm, she pushed up and forward. Her hands gripped her lightsabers, unclipping them from her belt as her body slowly spun in the air. Her legs lifted higher, her head swung lower, until she could just see the small CIS ship in the very edges of her vision. Another bolt slid past her, and she ignited her sabers, angling them downwards she just cleared to top of the ship.

One of her blue blades sliced through the wing of the small fighter, and as it continued forward in its momentum, the wing exploded. Arwen landed on her feet, unsteady and stumbling onto her knees several feet away from Appo, and the ship spun out of control, crashing into the cliff face.

Thoroughly exhausted, she barely moved when Appo all but yanked her to her feet and shakes her, “Nice work, Commander—now let’s get to cover, before a rogue assassin droid shows up.”

She snorted, and let him drag her towards Torrent Company, “Sorry about throwing you over the chasm.”

“S’fine, just don’t tell anyone I screamed, and I won’t tell anyone how hard you fumbled that landing.”

[anchanted-one]

Foundry Battle

This is an excerpt from chapter 83: The Foundry

It’s the Revan boss fight. How is it? Is it easy to follow? Is there a dearth of detail, or perhaps an overabundance? Does it need more in it?

Any thoughts at all will be appreciated.

Akahte shook her head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true. You really were going to kill 99% of us. Did the other Jedi know? Surely not. They’re too squeamish for such a drastic step. These days, at least.”

“Of course I didn’t tell them,” Revan admitted. “They would’ve got in my way. Only I have the will to do what must be done, no matter the cost. When one needs to cut off their arm to save their own life, they have no choice but to grit their teeth and pick up a knife.

“Hey, that rhymed! You made a half-bad poem! You should’ve been a court fool somewhere.”

“Insolent wretch!” Revan barked. He donned his mask and helmet and drew his Lightsabers. “I am Revan! I was a Sith! I am a Jedi! My knowledge is beyond any of you!”

He attacked Decimus first. The Dark Lord retreated steadily under Revan’s angry assault. Vemrin took the wind out of its sails by getting behind the Jedi, forcing him to concentrate on two people at once. Akahte entered the fray, slipping behind him and attempting to skewer his kidney with her shoto. Revan leapt into the air, where he was met by Ashara Zavros. The Togruta managed to stay on the offensive for a few milliseconds before the Jedi kicked her back. He used the momentum gained to land some distance away from his entrapment.

Khem Val charged next, but Revan evaded his attack. His Lightsaber bounced off the Dashade’s hide, but Khem still hissed from pain. Akahte new from experience that Lightsabers could pierce his hide eventually, so she loosed a jet of Lightning. Revan leapt back, so she tried again. This time, a wider, thicker net. The Jedi shocked her by conjuring his own Lightning; it was more magenta than blue or purple, and Akahte new at once she was outmatched. She squeezed out all the power that Ergast and Zavros had to offer, and most of Andru’s as well. Revan was pushed back, so he disengaged and attempted to close the distance.

Decimus got into his path, completely halting his momentum, but Revan kicked the Dark Councilor onto Akahte.

Akahte didn’t see what happened next, but when she got back onto her feet, Vemrin had been thrown headfirst into Khem, knocking both men out of the fight for a bit. Ashara stepped forward again, Andronikos and Talos distracting the Jedi as she approached from behind. But Revan deflected one of the bolts right into her stomach. She fell with a moan. Revan thrust a palm out, and both men were lifted into the air and slammed around on computers. Andronikos looked like he’d broken something important, and Talos’ fall was broken by a computer screen. Glass shards tore a wide gash across his left eye and face. He fell whimpering, fingers trying in vain to save his eye.

“NO!” Akahte rose. Drawing on every last drop of power from the ghosts that she could—and ignoring the tremendous pain that caused—she hurled a pillar of nearly-red Lightning at Revan. Unfortunately, the pain caused her to miss, and he was only hit by the penumbra of the storm.

Akahte dropped to one knee, smarting from the pain. Decimus rose to confront Revan. And he was alone. “You’re not half-bad, you little beast. But you’re more Sith than Jedi, and they’ll kill you for it, if we don’t. But even you are no match for a Dark Councilor.”

“You’ll find there’s little I’m no match for,” Revan’s voice conveyed a derisive sneer. “You think you can take me? Come and get it, then!”

Decimus’ attack was powerful enough to completely distract Revan. Behind him, Khem and Vemrin began to rise and prepare to reenter the battle.

He—he’s not doing so bad at all! Akahte thought. Good. Now I can go for my real strength.

She quickly pulled out her ritual knife and put a long cut on her arm. She drew runes and Sith letters all over the floor at her feet. She channeled power through all the tattoos on her hands; normally she only used up a single finger’s worth for each ritual, but this was a big one. An all-or-nothing gamble, one that took nearly seven minutes to complete. As she channeled, the tattoos began to burn red and fade. And as they did, glyphs appeared around the ritual circle. Akahte began to recite the words out loud, fighting to stay awake through the blood loss.

In that time, Vemrin and Khem rejoined the fight, with little success. Revan was a deadly opponent, and soon enough, Vemrin fell to the ground with a gaping Lightsaber wound in his gut. The ex-slave looked stunned, like the idea of death had never crossed his mind. With his fall, the battle shifted further into Revan’s favor. The Jedi managed to pin Khem under a heavy ferrocrete slab, then put a scar on Decimus’ face.

But Akahte was finally done. She felt goosebumps as the ritual started to work. To her vision, it looked like cobwebs spreading across the floor.

Without any warning, Revan suddenly lost his footing. One second he was about to kick Decimus in the chest; the next, his back foot slipped off the floor. He landed on his face. Every attempt to rise was met by failure as his hands, elbows, knees, and feet slid on the surface as though the friction was gone.

Decimus laughed happily. He, of course, was unhindered. “How long does this last?”

“As long as I do.”

“I think I’m gonna take your side against Thanny.” He kicked Revan in the stomach, sending him tumbling into a wall. Blood slipped out from the rim of his mask, and he coughed, raising off his mask to spit out another mouthful of blood. “Got any other tricks?”

Behind Revan, the durasteel walls became crude arms that seized the Jedi.

“A vulgar little trick, witch, but you won’t ‘last’ as long as you think you will,” Revan growled. “The real world is not a sterile classroom.” He raised his hands; a heavy stone slab broke off from the ceiling. Akahte scrambled to avoid it, but in so doing, lost her concentration. Revan snapped his fingers, and the hands exploded.

Someone applauded politely from the door. “Good show!”

All eyes turned to glare at Darth Kaimeryn. She came accompanied only by her Nagai retainer. “Stand aside, Decimus. He’s mine.” The woman entered with tremendous power in every footstep. “Ah, would you look at that? Vemrin is dead. I wanted to do that!”

Akahte cowered. This Sith scared her far more than Harkun, Zash, Skotia, and Thanaton combined did.

Kaimeryn tossed the Jedi a vial. “Get up, Jedi. I’m going to fight you at your best.”

Revan stood slowly. He seemed to take the Muinar as a far greater threat than he had the rest of the strike team. He contemplated the vial for a moment, then swallowed its contents. He then began a meditative trance. Minutes later, Akahte Sensed his wounds starting to heal. “Thanks,” she said before she could stop herself. “We had to fight hard to give him those wounds!”

“Yes, I noticed. And I noticed how you all kept getting in each other’s way. You’re not a team; you shouldn’t have fought as one. You are not the sum of your parts. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

She ignited her Lightsaber. “Come, ‘Revan.’ I want to see how well you live up to your legend.”

“Arrogance,” Revan hissed. He and Darth Kaimeryn stood facing each other for a few seconds. Then they both attacked at once. Kaimeryn’s swing knocked Revan back, but he recovered at once. He hurled a fist of Lightning at her, which she leapt over.

She landed with such tremendous force that the whole room shook, but Revan kept his feet. He hurled both his Lightsabers at the tall woman, who blocked the throw with her saber. Before the blades could return, she closed the gap and stabbed at him. Unable to recall his own blades back in time, Revan used Vemrin’s. He stopped three, four, five of her attacks, and on the sixth he counterattacked. Kaimeryn sidestepped but took a slight wound to the shoulder. Far from being upset, she laughed. “NICE ONE!”

Her attack this time was harder and faster. Three attacks to the face, one to the stomach, another to the shoulder, back to the neck… Revan fell back, putting up a steadfast defense. A look of fear crossed his face. He tried to knock her legs out from under her, but she braced herself somehow, causing Revan to hurt himself.

“That’s not how you sweep this lady off her feet,” Kaimeryn smiled. She gave Revan the time to recover a little.

“You self-indulgent little thrill-seeker—”

“That I am. But I’m not a genocidal maniac, at least. You take what you can get in this life. You should have tried that quiet life, instead of this.”

She raised a hand and Revan was raised in sync. He bagan to cough and choke. But he was not done. He twitched a finger, and the Lightsabers he’d dropped hurtled back at Darth Kaimeryn. The blades bounced off her Shield, but Revan broke free. He summoned the Lightsabers back, then took a few steps back. The Force churned around him as he made his next play. The ground started to shake. Cracks formed and rocks as sharp as spikes sprang up to attack Kaimeryn.

She used the Force herself; a hammer blow that turned the spikes into powder. Revan tried to choke her, and for a moment, she looked like she was succumbing to it, but she broke free with a loud yell.

Computers and machinery rose up and swirled around Revan. They began rushing forward and withdrawing back, like he was using the objects as fists. Kaimeryn took a few hits, but her Shield saved her from any real damage. That was until several ‘fists’ got swathed in Lightning. Kaimeryn looked impressed and a little nervous. The blows started to inject Lightning into her Shield, and it looked like it would be crushed soon. Kaimeryn looked like she was ready to move… but Akahte was too scared of what might happen if the Muinar died.

She sprang into action before that could happen. Getting in range again, she stabbed Revan through the back. The Jedi screamed in surprise, then fell to the floor.

“Why did you do that?” Darth Kaimeryn asked, raising a beautiful eyebrow. She sounded a little annoyed.

“He was about to kill you!”

“No he wasn’t. I had that.”

“Well… I thought he was,” Akahte said defensively.

Kaimeryn sighed. She looked at the man on the ground. “And I was enjoying that too. He was far from done, but so was I. This is so anticlimactic!”

Revan crawled to a table and fought to sit up. Power crackled in his left fist, but it looked like the last embers of a dying fire. Still, Akahte felt some respect for a man who could fight until his last breath like this.

“So this is it…” Revan sighed. “‘And in the end, as darkness takes me… I am nothing.’” He sounded like he was quoting someone. “I… understand now, how you felt, old friend.”

He released his power, and there was a loud explosion. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, every last piece of equipment in the control center was destroyed. The whole room smelled like melted tar. Outside, the explosions started. Like the Jedi had said, the place had been set to self-destruct. In death, Revan managed to rob his enemies of their prize.

[scrapnt]

@mutatiio : their usefulness had come to a rather abrupt end. not by his own accord. his master, as always, left him in the dark about the steps of his plan. really, he wasn’t sure how he could finish the mission without the help of at least one of these bounty hunters. no matter. most of the team were dead now. 

his blade is a blur as he sails over the duros with force-assisted ease. he lands firm, straightening and disengaging his lightsaber before their body could hit the floor. they join a mess of mangled limbs. the smell of burning flesh is all too familiar to him now. still, he breathes it in. it’s almost calming. almost. he senses her before he sees her. she’s meant to be here so it’s no surprise. she’s his final target. he turns, yellow eyes illuminated beneath his hood. toying with his food is something his master has tried to beat out of him. and yet… “can you keep a secret??”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝. The air hummed with the crackle of energy, and the scent of burning flesh was a nauseating presence. Her heart pounded against her chest as she stared down at the crumpled forms of the Duros, now motionless. Though she knew they were no angels, certainly not a group she’d stick around with if things ever went south, they had still been a part of her team. A team that, for all she understood in her line of work, wasn’t suppose to be DISBANDED before the mission was complete. Especially not in such violent way. Her eyes flickered to Maul, the predatory glint in his own yellow eyes sending a chill down her spine. Her grip tightened around her blaster, her knuckles going white. Then, she focused her attention on the situation at hand, attempting to ground herself within this darkened corridor.

The question he posed hung heavy in the air, the weight of it pressing against her chest like a vice. It was a game, she realized, one that she had to play with caution. The corners of her lips tugged upwards in a wry smile, her eyes never leaving his. " Secrets and treasures are my trade, " she replied, her voice steady despite the tremble that threatened to surface. " You'd be hard-pressed to find someone better suited for keeping them. " As her mind raced through her options, Charlie's senses absorbed the scene around her. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck, the sweltering heat in the aftermath of his violent display making it difficult to breathe. The Zabrak's gaze felt much too intense, his intentions unreadable as the shadows danced across his horned features underneath his dark hood. She had been in dire situations before, but something about this felt different. It gnawed at her insides, the uncertainty that came with not knowing what they were after – or who they were working for – leaving her uneasy.

“ But, ” she continued, channeling boldness where her confidence was lacking. “ I get the feeling I'll be keeping this one whether I want to or not. ” Charlie took a steadying breath, her resolve hardening as she steeled herself for the consequences of her words. “ So… Since it looks like I’ve got some free time now… Is there something you want to get off your chest ? ”

[andiinaraethtash]

Thanks for the tag, Itsy!!!

Now, the fun part will be figuring out what ones are my "last 10" fanfics. I have. Just. So many of them. Okay, here goes (and yes, I know, I'm doing two lines instead of one for some of these, but look, it just works better this way):

Time and Time Again: The end of their world comes not with a whisper, but with a bang. Two bangs, to be exact. (asdkhlahfha I love this opening. As you might guess from the title and the fact that it is I, Andi, notorious for writing time-travel stories, this is a time-travel story, and I love it so much!)

Let Me Be Your Shelter: Marc hisses as he takes the punch to the face. It hurts for a split second, his head whipping to the side as he rolls with the punch, but his suit quickly takes care of it, and he takes the second the thug he’s beating gives him to throw a moon blade into his leg. (This one is also super fun! It involves a dimension-hopping Moon Knight, lots of half-truths--one of my favorite things to write--and lots and lots of angst/hurt/comfort. Well. It will. I haven't written that much yet.)

All My Tomorrows (All My Yesterdays): Ezra ducked the Stormtrooper’s blast, then disengaged his ‘saber and dove to the side, jumping up to dropkick a second trooper off the box he’d been standing on. As the first trooper shot at him again, he ignited his lightsaber again and slashed through the stun bolts, twirling around to send a telekinetic wave through the Force to knock him down. (This one. this one is written for one reason and one reason only: to be pure fluff with a bit of angst and a lot of hilarity. It's great, it just... also needs to be finished.)

Can't Escape the Fallout (Feel the Fire Rain Down): Once, Scott would have said he’s only a little scared by his ice powers. By now, he’s verging on terrified. (Most of my MCYT readers will recognize this as the opening line two my current wip--work in publishing--but I love this opening and the whole story. I need to finish this so I can finish publishing it)

Flamebird on the Wing: At a certain point, time becomes meaningless.(Okay, so this one needs explaining. I'm not planning on publishing this one--at least, not on my andiinaraethtash ao3 account--but I love writing it. It's a DC fanfic focused on the Bat family, with the inclusion of a character of mine. Said character was originally basically just a self insert, but over time she--and the story itself--has grown, and become something entirely different and special.)

Lightning Bolt Torn from the Sky: The nine-year-old girl comes to in a dirty alley. To be honest, she’s kind of surprised she wakes up at all, but she’s not going to complain. She shifts ever so slightly as she tries to get a good look at her surroundings, and almost screams as pain rips through her abdomen. Okay, so maybe she is going to complain. (Definitely cheating with this one, but I wanted to do the whole first blurb rather than just the first sentence. This one is in the same series as the one above it, this is just the prequel. Again, probably won't get published, but it's my oldest fanfic I'm still working on, as I've been working on it on and off for about five years now.)

Thirteen wasn’t sure why he was being let out of his room (his cage), but he was grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs. Following the Grand Inquisitor warily, he watched the set of the Pa’uan’s shoulders to try to find any clue as to what his next assignment was. If he had to guess, it was an important one. (Okay, at this point it should be obvious that I cannot just do the first chapter. I want to give it more context. Sorry not sorry)

I See It in Your Closed Eyes: Morriband, Ahsoka decided, was now her least favorite planet, beating out Tatooine, which had held that place of honor since her first mission with Anakin. (Someone PLEASE ask me about this one, I love it so much. It's the first Star Wars fanfic I ever wrote, and while I need to go through and edit this part of the series for continuity and style and just general "get rid of the stuff that came from me being new to the whole writing thing" thing.)

Untitled: When Daisy wakes up, Zephyr One has stopped moving. (I couldn't come up with a good title for this one. but in short: AoS, time travel, good times)

Said I Knew Myself (But I Guess I Lied): For the last few weeks, Steven has been waking up alone, exhausted, and sore. When Marc eventually wakes up, too, he starts tending to wounds neither of them remember receiving, and only the fact that Steven can tell when Marc is lying (the perks of sharing a mind-space with someone) is keeping him from accusing his alter of going back to the mercenary lifestyle—or the vigilante one. (another Moon Knight fic, another "the duo of Marc and Steven finding out about Jake" story.

That's all, folks!

Just kidding. Please, if any of these sound interesting to you, send me an ask and I'll tell you all about them. Nothing gets me more excited to write than to talk about my stories.

Thanks so much for the tag, again, Itsy!

tagging: @felicityphoenix5 @chaoticdumbassrogue and anyone else that wants to join in (I'm sorry if I've forgotten a mutual who also writes--feel free to add onto this with your own works I'd love reading it!)

First Sentences - Fic Author Tag Game

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

Oh jeez oh fuck okay

Tagged by the amazing @blurredout10

1. We Look So Good - "Nines returned from his meeting with Fowler much sooner than Gavin had expected." boring. dull. predictable. Is this game meant to make me hate the way my fics start? /lh

2. Grace is just weakness (or so I've been told) - "North stared down at her hands, watching intently as the artificial skin pulled back and forth, glowing white and blue unveiled, then snuffed out." I actually liked the imagery in this one

3. You Should Have Killed Me - "Nines paused when he noticed Connor no longer following behind."

4. Hold me just like that - "For five minutes Connor stood hovering over Gavin who sat at his desk, working studiously like the studious worker he was." this line was meant to be humorous and I hope I achieved that

5. Love you madly - "Two whole months after the end of the revolution, and the start of their journey for equal rights, Simon finally managed to convince Markus to step away, just for a little bit, to take a break and remind himself what he could do with this freedom he fought for."

6. There's Always a Choice - "“Hello, fellow PL600,” a cheerful voice rang out in the empty storage unit."

7. In My Heart - "Din held the child close to his chest, not willing to look away lest it all be a trick, a dream, that he could hold his son again and his son could stay with him."

8. So Bad - ""What's this scar from?" Ethan asked curiously, tracing an index finger gently over a scar across Chris's forearm."

9. We Are Home - "“Connor!” Hank’s voice called from his room. “Where the fuck did you put my jacket?”"

10. EMULATION - "Feeling. RK800 couldn't place when such a sensation had begun."

I am tagging @itsybitsybatsyspider @advictoriams and @ryanrossdestroyedmylife bc I know y'all write but anyone else who also writes pls join in <333

[ladyxskywalker]

I think it's a bit dark for your taste but imagine Anakin becoming the emperor (no burning was involved) and you are supposed to be the jedi that defeats him but he manages to seduce you to the dark side 😈

oh !! ❤️ this is definitely not too dark for me at all. love this & love him !

(yes we do soft here, but even I love a good dark side seduction story like this one !)

...

"Go ahead. Kill me..."

Through shaken hands, you've made attempts to rise against all that you fear, pushing it all away in favor of Emperor Skywalker's end. But the unwavering will of great affection steals your mind from moving, holding you sharply there in place.

Blurs of effortless thought of a future, both yours and his in warmth upended, so swiftly turning, drawing you further toward the shadows, ones of which he's willed inside an enigmatic darkness that's soon to have been calling.

"You can't do it, can you?"

"Please, stop this!"

"I can not change what is already inside yourself. Your destiny and mine are set... I've already seen it. Just as you have."

He saunters over to you closer then, the mere touch of his hand, pebbling the skin of your face in grazes where it seems he's only just been standing there, entirely mesmerized by it.

"You're trembling."

An ominous heated torment, glossing over at the sterling spark of palms embraced by their winding feel of covering, soon begins clouding all your vision.

"Anakin, I can't, please, this isn't..."

Breathing you in nearer, he whispers, leaving a kiss beneath the shell of your waiting ear.

"Do not fear me."

And you can't; not then, not solely in this very moment, especially right now when you don't think you ever did.

"Give in to it. The pull you feel, I sense every wave of it."

Tilting your chin to face him, comes easily then; your eyes alight in golden shades of ash and fire, reflecting all it is you truly ever wanted from him.

His hips, hard and flush when he asks you if you know just what you do to him, fueling every nightmare and dream he's ever hoped of seeing in real time, when you've awakened...

"It is more than just this, you and I. The back and forth of chasing...your anguish of need, burning into my skin. Can you taste it?"

And suddenly, with every breathless tracing of his selfish mouth along the arching of your neck, bringing you further into unfolding, not once can you defy him; giving into to all of him there with a pressing ache, just as soon as your lightsaber disengages...

Your lips, darting for him into a salacious drag, and slotting with him at the heady embrace of closing spaces; capable of catching every escaping gasp of air that parts itself away from your merciless entanglement.

... ❤️

[solrika]

Zeb and Kallus fighting in the Sith+Jedi AU.

~

He knew what he was walking into, but Zeb still had to fight the urge to freeze as he stepped over the threshold. An entire planetary government, huddled nervously in their chairs around an innocuous meeting table, and a smiling Sith settled at its head. 

“Ah, Knight Orrelios,” Kallus said, voice smooth as ever. He glanced at the troops behind Zeb, an eyebrow raising. “And friends.”

“Kallus,” Zeb managed, holding out a hand to keep his soldiers behind the shelter of his lightsaber. He didn’t sense any of Kallus’ mercenaries, but better safe than hit by an unexpected blaster bolt. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m cutting out rot.” There was an unsettling light to Kallus’ golden eyes, and Zeb had to fight to keep his hackles flat when the Sith rose from his chair. The sound of the legs scraping against the tiled floor was loud in the silence, barely covering the noise of the planetary governor’s anxious swallow. “Burning out infection.”

“Don’t move,” Zeb said flatly, ears swiveling back. 

Predictably, Kallus ignored him, sauntering slowly around the table. Zeb could almost taste the fear of the government members, fighting back a shudder of his own as satisfaction pulsed through Kallus’ signature. Pausing behind the planetary governor’s chair, the Sith rested both hands on the hapless man’s shoulders, smile as chilling as the cold air. “You’re a healer, Zeb. You understand, don’t you?” 

“You’re going to have to explain,” Zeb said, taking a cautious step forward. “All I see is a petty tyrant.” When Kallus didn’t seem to react, he kept moving, lightsaber tight in his hands. 

Rolling his eyes, Kallus retorted, “I don’t want to rule, Orrelios.” 

“Then why all of this?” Edging around the table, Zeb tried to read the shifting currents of the Force. Maybe, if he could stall long enough, if he could get Kallus away from his hostages... “Money?”

“No,” the Sith laughed, so familiar and yet so wrong with that frigid note winding through his stormfront signature. “Not this time.”

“So–”

“How do we handle parasites, Garazeb?” Kallus asked brightly. The Force flexed, the barest warning–

–without thinking, Zeb lunged–

–Kallus’ hands moved, almost too fast to follow, and the governor’s life blinked out like a light. A second later, he wrenched himself sideways—

–the smell of burnt hair sizzled into the air, red light flared, and their lightsabers crashed together with a deep hum. Kallus, the bastard, had the nerve to laugh, grinning wildly over their crossed blades. “Too slow.” 

“This isn’t a game,” Zeb snarled, disengaging just enough to throw up his offhand blade in a whirling strike. Over his shoulder, he yelled at the frozen officials, “Move!” If he could control the fight, get Kallus far enough from the table that his soldiers had a clear shot–

Ducking under Zeb’s blade, the Sith flicked his own out in a wicked riposte that punched a hole in the trailing edge of Zeb’s sash. Instead of following the movement of Zeb’s flinch, however, he disengaged to strike at the scrambling officials. The red blade swung, pain skittered across Zeb’s shields, another life blinked out—

–Zeb reached out through the Force, took a hold of Kallus’ cape, and yanked. 

Later, he’d be amused by the undignified yelp that elicited. Now, lightning crackled in Kallus’ fingers even as he fell–damn his survival instincts–and it was Zeb’s turn to have hair singed off. Even as the scream started in his chest, he reached deep, let the Force wash forwards to soothe the pain and push his muscles through their convulsions. They crashed together, tangled on the floor, someone’s ‘saber scoring right through the tiles. 

Zeb’s brain didn’t hold onto much of the grappling, letting his muscle memory do the work while his mind focused on countering the Sith lightning. Frost tickled across the edge of his fur, spread out from every place he and Kallus touched. Dimly, he could hear screaming, sense his troopers trying to line up a shot, feel pain and fear and anger–

–so much anger, welling up like a poisoned spring from Kallus’ mind. 

“You could change the galaxy,” the Sith hissed. “You could change everything!” 

So many things Zeb wanted to say, and yet all he could manage was, “Not–not like this.” 

Mouth twisting in derision, Kallus spat, “Coward.” He contorted, got one foot braced against Zeb’s chest, and when he pushed, it was with the strength of the Force behind his kick. 

No matter how often it happened, hitting a wall always hurt. Rattled Zeb’s brain, too, hard enough that he could only stare at the floor and pant for a few precious seconds. By the time he’d rolled himself up onto his knees, his troops had pressed in. Kallus’ signature flickered with irritation as he deflected their bolts, picture-perfect as any training holocron. 

Zeb shook himself, hauled himself the rest of the way to standing. “Surrender,” he called, even though he knew it would go unheeded.

Sure enough, Kallus just threw him a scathing glance. The Force bunched, the only warning before a window blew itself out, sending glass scattering across the room. It wouldn’t have harmed the troopers (shielding his eyes, Zeb grudgingly conceded that his Master had a point about the usefulness of armor), but still, their instinctive wince back was all the opening Kallus needed to throw himself outside and to freedom. 

Karabast.

[secretsolarsystem]

Uhh, we definitely need more of ex-jedi obiwan and Padawan anakin. It was so good!

How was the first time they met after obiwan left the order?

well if you definitely need more who am I to deny !!!!! thank you sm I'm so glad you enjoyed!!

there first time was very silly imo and you can read all about it in this 1.7k canon-divergent, padawan!Anakin, ex-Jedi!Obi-Wan, Anakin is underage but nothing underage happens I promise!!!, possessive Obi-Wan <333

(part one & part two)

–

For years – six, to be exact – since Anakin had been brought to the Temple and Obi-Wan had left, Obi-Wan hadn’t really left, not entirely. He still felt a responsibility to watching over the boy and ensuring his safety and well-being while making sure his training progressed successfully, like any good master would.

But Obi-Wan was not Anakin’s master, not really. Still, his master’s dying wish was to train the boy, so Obi-Wan did the next best thing as an outsider and kept an eye on him.

Which is how he found himself running around the lower levels, chasing a fifteen-year-old Anakin at what Obi-Wan deemed a reasonable distance: far enough away he wouldn’t be noticed, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose his padawan.

No, not his padawan; Mace Windu’s padawan. And Obi-Wan knew, now, that Anakin Skywalker must really be the Chosen One, because no average padawan could sneak out from under Mace Windu’s watch. It filled Obi-Wan with equal parts pride at Anakin’s capabilities and outrage at Windu’s negligence.

(Obi-Wan knew that in actuality, Windu was a very attentive and invested master, but that didn’t change the fact that his fifteen-year-old padawan was running around the lower levels unaccompanied. Well, he was accompanied by Obi-Wan, but Windu didn’t know that. Anakin didn’t know that.)

Even if Obi-Wan didn’t already know it himself, it was obvious Anakin hadn’t been down here alone before. He was bobbing and weaving through crowds, taking strange turns and lingering to see the strange and very much illegal substances being pushed. Obi-Wan was a bit torn, wanting nothing more than to yank on the collar of Anakin’s shirt and give him the lecture of his life, but also not wanting to do anything to impede on the look of wonder on the boy’s face.

Warring with himself, Obi-Wan kept following Anakin as he made his way around, endlessly curious and nervous as to where they’d end up. Only a few times did Obi-Wan have to deal with others interested in following Anakin, either using the Force to suggest they’d like to do otherwise, or resorting to knocking them out, if they were too relentless.

Suddenly, as Obi-Wan stepped around a large wookie to bring Anakin back into view, Anakin took a sharp right down an alley way. Sucking in a harsh breath, Obi-Wan quickened his pace, his heart racing. Anakin should know better than to be down here at night all alone, yes, but he should at least know better than to go down dark, suspect alleys, especially down here at night all alone.

Just as Obi-Wan turned the corner, Anakin pounced, slamming Obi-Wan’s back into one of the walls and holding his ignited lightsaber to Obi-Wan’s throat. Instead of fear for his life or even confusion as to what just happened, Obi-Wan’s first thought was: Good, at least he was smart enough to bring his lightsaber.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” Anakin growled, and with the blue blade at Obi-Wan’s throat it was intimidating, but Obi-Wan noticed the tremble in the boy’s limbs and voice, and found it endlessly endearing.

“My, you’ve grown,” was the first, stupid thing Obi-Wan said. The first, stupid thing he’s said to Anakin in six years.

Narrowing his eyes, Anakin pursed his lips and stood his ground. “Answer me!” he demanded.

“I will, but perhaps you could disengage your lightsaber first. It’s got me rather nervous someone could walk past us and become far too interested in what’s going on over here.”

Eye widening, Anakin took a step back, his lightsaber still engaged, but falling to his side. “Obi-Wan?” he said, barely audible. But Obi-Wan heard it. He heard it as if it’d been shouted directly in his ear.

“Disengage your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing around the sudden dryness in his mouth. Did Anakin really remember him? How? He was so young, it’s been so long-

Finally processing Obi-Wan’s words, Anakin disengaged his ‘saber and hooked it on his belt. “Obi-Wan?” he asked again.

Suddenly nervous, Obi-Wan nodded quickly. “Hello, Anakin.”

Then, more surprisingly than when he’d lunged at Obi-Wan only moments ago, Anakin sprang forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Obi-Wan! It is you!”

Allowing himself a smile, Obi-Wan wrapped his own arms around Anakin’s shoulders. “I’m surprised you remember me,” he admitted.

Not pulling away, Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan with a frown (though, it was more of a pout, wasn’t it?), their proximity made more evident by Anakin’s height. He’s already so tall. How’d he grow so fast? And to think, I would’ve missed it…

“Of course I remember you. You and Master Qui-Gon saved me,” Anakin said with a fervor. “I kept asking my master where you’d gone, but no one would tell me – not the truth, anyway. Where have you been?”

Smile falling, Obi-Wan himself frowned. “What did they tell you?”

Rolling his eyes, Anakin pulled away from the hug, leaving Obi-Wan’s arms to dangle by his sides while Anakin crossed his. Looking down at the puddle he ran the toe of his boot into, Anakin shrugged murmuring, “Different things. Some said you left because of losing Master Qui-Gon. Some said you were kicked out for Falling. Some said you…well, different things.”

“Some said I what, Anakin?” Obi-Wan pressed through gritted teeth.

Sighing and still looking down, Anakin answered, “Some said that you were supposed to train me, and didn’t want to, so that’s- that’s why you left.” Shaking his head, Obi-Wan put his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and gave him a quick shake to get him to look up at him. When Anakin did, Anakin gasped. “Obi-Wan, your eyes-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupting, not caring that his eyes were probably bright yellow now, thanks to his outrage. “Yes, I was sad about losing my master. But I didn’t Fall, despite how I may look right now. And training you was not the reason I left. It was the opposite, actually.”

Frowning, Anakin tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He could tell Anakin the truth, that he left because without having Anakin as his padawan, he had nothing keeping him at the Temple. Not when his brush with the Dark lingered and made everyone around him uneasy. But…Obi-Wan didn’t want Anakin to use any of that as a reason to resent the Order himself. While Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to have Anakin as his own, he couldn’t be responsible for Anakin leaving his home and his family. He was so bright in the Force, and Obi-Wan couldn’t live with himself if he planted any seeds of anger or bitterness to dim that in any way.

“What I mean,” Obi-Wan answered with a sigh, bringing his hands in to cup Anakin’s neck, ignoring the way the braid tickled the back of his hand, “is that I did not leave because of you. I left because of me, despite you. And for that I am sorry, Anakin.”

Looking up at Obi-Wan with big eyes, Anakin asked, “Will you come back?”

Obi-Wan laughed, pulling his hands away to fold them into the sleeves of his robe. “With these eyes?” he joked, not wanting to say the truth: no, I never will, because I don’t want to.

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes with a smile. “They’re blue again.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan hummed, smiling. “For now.” Anakin smiled back at him, and Obi-Wan took a breath, steeling himself for Anakin’s reaction. “Now, young one, it’s time to go home.”

Mouth dropping open with indignation, Anakin sputtered, “But, Obi-Wan! I came all the why here, I want- I came to dance! And drink! To do fun, off-duty Jedi things!”

Laughing again, Obi-Wan took Anakin by the arm and began dragging him back towards his speeder. “I’m afraid that when you’re a padawan, you’re never off duty.”

Groaning, Anakin trudged along after him, his footsteps heavy. When they reached Obi-Wan’s speeder, Obi-Wan made sure Anakin was in before getting into the driver’s side, shaking his head fondly at the petulant way Anakin crossed his arms and stared out the window.

As they flew, Anakin finally spoke again, asking, “Why were you following me?”

Obi-Wan felt that saying “Because I spend every waking moment worrying about you and I watch you whenever I can, just to make sure you’re safe and to make sure I don’t miss out on you growing up” would come off incredibly concerning and creepy, so instead, he lied. “I saw you while I was out and thought I recognized you, so I guess I wanted to see if it was you.”

“Is that why you mind tricked and knocked out all those people?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could feel his eyes staring into the side of his face now.

Blushing, Obi-Wan swallowed down his embarrassment. “Is that a thank you?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

“I could’ve handled them,” Anakin scoffed, holding his head up higher. Obi-Wan laughed, and Anakin insisted, “I could have! Master Windu says I’m doing well on my forms.” Then, Anakin gasped, turning to grab onto Obi-Wan’s arm. “Oh, you won’t tell him where you found me, will you? He’d kriffing murder me.”

Pulling up just outside the Temple, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a smile. “He won’t murder you, Anakin.” I might, if I was your master. After I made sure every part of you was intact and untouched. “But no, I won’t tell him. I have no intention of even speaking to him.”

Sighing with great relief, Anakin sank back into his seat. “Thank you.” Nodding, Obi-Wan unlocked the speeder. Taking the hint, Anakin got out and headed towards the stairs of the Temple. Before he reached them, though, he stopped for a moment before turning around and running back towards the speeder. Then, fidgeting by the driver’s side while Obi-Wan waited, Anakin asked, “Am I going to see you again?”

Smiling, Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, I think so. As long as you keep getting into trouble.”

Face lighting up, Anakin’s bright smile turned into a mischievous one. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Must you make me say that you should not get into trouble, especially not intentionally?” Obi-Wan said, biting back a laugh.

Shrugging, Anakin turned and made his way up the stairs. “Say it all you want, Obi-Wan, you’re not my master.”

He’d said it as a joke, Obi-Wan knew, but it still drove a dagger through Obi-Wan’s heart as he watched Anakin disappear inside the building. No, Obi-Wan wasn’t Anakin’s master, but it wouldn’t stop him from caring for the boy as if he were.

prompted fic collection on ao3

[samspenandsword]

Training: Anakin Skywalker/Reader (GN)

Summary: While training together at the Jedi Temple, you and Anakin have somehow wound up being friends. And if your traitorous heart had a say about it, you would be more than that. Pre-Episode II Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/reader; gender-neutral reader with no descriptions of their appearance.  Rating: GEN — SFW Warnings: None — fluff, pining, light violence (lightsaber duel), some language. Word Count: 1k

The training room reeked of sweat and competition, and that came as no surprise seeing as the two padawans had been going at it for close to two hours now. Jedi stamina was something to speak of, that was for sure. 

Both padawans had planned to let themselves go for as long as possible, wanting a good workout with each other. So both of them had shucked their outer robes and tunics, leaving them in their light undershirts, loose pants, and boots.

You flashed a cheeky grin at Anakin as your blades locked between your chests. Sweat trickled down your temples and the back of your neck, but you ignored it, instead focusing on Anakin.

“I’ll admit, Ani, you’ve improved.”

You made sure to use his childhood nickname, knowing it would make him grind his teeth.

But instead, Anakin simply grinned back — that signature, Anakin Skywalker grin that set most Jedi on edge, but made your heart pound.

“You haven’t.”

You laughed, disengaging your blade from his. The blue of his blade nearly matched the blue of his eyes, and you had long-since trained yourself to not get lost in them. At least, not while you guys were dueling.

You brought your blade up, swiping at Anakin in an admittedly half-hearted attack. He met your blade, pressing down on it and trying to force it from your grip. You allowed Anakin to force your lightsaber down and brought your knee up into his middle. He coughed with surprise, and you were able to detach your blade from his. 

“Hey!” Anakin complained, in that petulant tone he had so perfectly mastered. “I thought we were dueling, not sparring!”

You allowed yourself to huff a laugh. You were getting tired, and it was harder and harder to keep going. Two hours of non-stop lightsaber combat will do that. “Feel free to lodge a complaint with the Council.”

Anakin swung at you in an overhead arc, but you were too quick and ducked. With a pair of grins, your duel picked up speed again.

Swipe. Block. Thrust. Parry. Jump. Duck. Your blades continuously clashed, sparks flying between you. The air was filled with grunts and the constant humming of lightsabers. Anakin was fierce, aggressive, strong and fast. You were lighter on your feet, spinning away from his constant onslaught and meeting the attacks with your own. You could tell Anakin was getting frustrated  — his attacks were getting wilder, and you found yourself struggling to block and counter them all. But when Anakin got wild, he got sloppy. So when he swung at you in a wide arc, leaving his middle and legs completely open, who were you to ignore it?

With a swift kick, you took Anakin’s legs out from under him, and he went sprawling. You didn’t hesitate to reach out, drawing his lightsaber from his hand with the Force. You caught it and in another second, your blade was at his throat.

Anakin glowered up at you, but then his expression relaxed into that carefree grin of his and he began to laugh. Anakin waved his hands in surrender. You grinned in triumph, deactivating your blade and instantly falling to the floor beside Anakin.

“Thank Force, I’m tired,” you huffed, chest heaving from your workout. Your neckline was soaked with sweat and you knew you’d need a good soak in the fresher tonight. You sniffed, tossing a cringe Anakin’s way. “You stink.”

“That’s you, you’re smelling.”

“No, I don’t think so. Only you can stink worse than a wet bantha.”

Anakin laughed, his own chest still heaving from the duel. But a second later, he had rolled right over on top of you.

“Anakin!” You pushed, but he didn’t budge and instead settled between your legs, making your heart pound. He didn’t seem to notice. Anakin took a dramatic sniff and winced.

“Wet bantha, huh? Better than smelling like Obi-Wan’s armpit when he’s nervous.”

You gave an indignant cry, still trying to shove him off of you, but Anakin laughed, and you found yourself softening.

Anakin’s laugh was so beautiful. Just like the rest of him. Sure he was loud, emotional, far too impulsive, cocky. But he was also clever, caring, demonstrative, passionate. He was so unique and so unlike anyone you’d ever met that right from the moment you’d met him, you knew he’d change your life. You’d felt the Force ripple within yourself, and you continued to feel it every time he stared at you with those frustratingly pretty eyes. Or flashed that irritatingly gorgeous smile.

Attachments were not the Jedi way. Romantic attachments especially. But no matter how hard you’d tried to stamp those feelings down, release them into the Force, ignore them, overcome them, shove them away from awareness, beat them into oblivion, none of it had worked. So you allowed your feelings to exist. Allowed them to warm your heart in your rare moments together. Allowed them to stoke the fire of hope in your soul. Allowed them to grow, slowly and quietly, until sometimes you thought those feelings were the only things you were aware of anymore. 

But it never felt wrong. It never felt dark. Or dangerous. So you were content to let your feelings live inside you, thriving off the bright light of his eyes and smile. 

And nothing more.

But as you both stood, clipping your sabers to your belts and picking up your discarded layers, Anakin flashed another smile your way. A different smile. A softer smile.

And your breath hitched.

Kriff, you were so screwed, weren’t you?

Definitely karked, you thought as Anakin’s arms wrapped you in a hug.

His hands settled on your hips, lower than you both knew they should’ve, and your arms settled around his neck, fingers unable to resist the temptation of touching his hair. You would swear Anakin shivered, but then he was smiling again, and you couldn’t focus on much else.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice so quiet you weren’t sure you were meant to hear the sentiment. For years now, you and Anakin had been constantly deployed on missions, in the constant company of your masters. So these moments of duels and banter and hidden desire were rare. And that made them all the more special. 

“I missed you too, Anakin,” you breathed. He drew you into his chest, and you were only too willing to sink into him.

No matter what the future brought, no matter where your paths took you, you knew you would always have this. Memories of stolen moments. The warmth of his embrace. And you would always have Anakin, in whatever way he was willing to give.

And that was enough.

[monamourbladie-mb]

19 Years Later... (Darth Vader x reader miniseries chapter 1)

19 years have passed since Y/n’s husband Anakin’s death, and she has become the leading General of the newly founded Rebellion alongside her past Jedi friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, now known as Ben Kenobi. When her children Luke and Leia Skywalker gets kidnapped by Darth Vader, the man who killed her husband; her and Obi-Wan Kenobi must come rescue her. But when she finds out who’s behind Darth Vader’s mask, the truth is something she never thought she had to prepare herself for.

——————

Index:

1. prologue

2. chapter 1

3. chapter 2 [Coming soon]

wc: 2.3k

warnings: cursing

——————

Being the leader of the new Rebellion against the evil Galactic Empire had its perks. One of the things that was not a perk, however, was hiding one’s actual name from their people, and past.

None of Y/n’s rebels knew of her past as a former Jedi Knight that fought in the Clone Wars. Though she fought like a cunning warrior, the thought had never once crossed their minds, seeing as all the Jedi were dead.

She had raised her children Luke and Leia with Obi-Wan’s guidance to be trained as Jedi, seeing as both of them were very Force-Sensitive.

Watching Luke wield his father’s lightsaber brought such bittersweet feelings to both old Jedi Knights. Anakin was such a big part of both of their lives, that it was almost painful to see this without him there.

Anakin would be beyond proud of his son and daughter, for sure.

Y/n recalled the first time he and Leia held their lightsabers. They were both 9, the same age their Father was when he was brought him by Qui-Gon Jyn from Tattooine.

Luke had rushed up to Obi’s old trunk excitedly, admiring the strange silver object with big eyes as Leia crowded behind him, “What’s that, Uncle Obi?”

“This is your father’s lightsaber, my dear. He would’ve wanted you to have it,” Obi replied, a sad smile on his face as he held onto the hilt, activating its stellar blue glow.

“This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster—“ Obi handed it to Luke and his eyes widened, waving it around gently so he didn’t break it. “—an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.”

“Is it mine?” Luke’s eyes beamed in excitement. Obi-Wan nodded, sitting down as he picked up Leia, putting her on his knee.

“For over a thousand generations, the Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice. The old republic. Before the Empire...” he trailed off, turning his head towards the window.

Y/n rushed into the room, hearing the lightsaber and fearing there was an intruder, “Obi-Wan! What’s going on, I’m—“ she ignited her brilliant (l/c) saber, holding it in a protective stance before she realized it was just Luke. She sighed heavily and disengaged her saber, attaching it back to her belt loop, “Obi, you didn’t tell me you were doing this now...” she crossed her arms.

“Mom! Obi-Wan told me this was Dad’s! Look!” he started swinging it gently, making sure it didn’t hit anyone since he knew how deadly they could be. She began to smile sadly as she remembered a young Anakin as a padawan, rushing in to show her his lightsaber he constructed the day he finally got one.

She smiled sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. “You look so much like your father, Luke,” she said sadly. Obi looked back at Luke, and for a split moment, he was reminded of the small slave his old master brought back with him. He smiled to himself remembering how he helped Anakin with his padawan braid.

“Princess, come here. I’ll let you hold my lightsaber, okay?” she handed Leia her saber gently, and she took gingerly from her hand. Leia took it and igniting it, the blade’s glow reflecting in her excited little eyes.

“Mom? How did dad die? You never answered me,” Luke asked. Y/n felt herself freeze in place, a large lump in her throat forming. “Luke, I...”

“I’ll tell them, Y/n,” Obi-Wan replied solemnly. “Your father was killed by a young Jedi named Darth Vader. He was a close friend of mine before he fell. He helped the Emperor hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights. He betrayed and murdered your father.” The room fell silent, until Luke asked another question, “So you and Uncle Obi are the last remaining Jedi?”

Obi-Wan shook his head no, “There are others, but sparse. To name a few, Master Yoda and Ahsoka Tano, your father’s Padawan learner. The last remaining Jedi are being hunted down by Vader, which is why we hide.”

Leia spoke up softly, “Is that why we don’t use our actual last name, mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart. As long as Vader’s reign continues, we must hide our names. Darth Vader does not know about the two of you, so you are safe. For us, on the other hand...” she trailed off, and the kids understood.

“Mom... Mom,” Leia spoke loudly. Y/n blinked in confusion and turned back around, looking at her daughter, “Yeah, my love?”

“Are you okay mom?” Leia asked, frowning. “We need to look at the Death Star plans.”

“Right,” she sighed heavily, turning to face from the window out looking Yavin 4. “I’m fine, princess. I just... was remembering Anakin, that’s all.” Leia sighed and laid her hand on her mother’s back, rubbing it gently, “Dad would be proud of everything you’ve done, mom.” She began to tear up as she pulled Leia into a tight hug, “I hope so. It’s been about 20 years and it still doesn’t feel right,” silent tears fell down her cheeks into her daughter’s bunned hair.

“I’m proud of you, Leia. If you were to be trained within the Order now, you’d be the same age your father was when he became a Jedi Knight, and when he married me...” she sniffled, wiping her tears. Leia smiled softly, holding her mom’s hand, “Do you think he’d be proud of me, too?”

“I know he would,” she rubbed her fingertips against hers, “He would pull you into the tightest hug, spin you a little and say softly, ‘That’s my baby girl,’” she replied, her voice cracking slightly. Leia began to tear up as she hugged her back, “I wish I knew him...” she said softly. “I wish so too, babe, so bad...” Y/n sighed. But I won’t let his memory be in vain. Let’s go look at these plans and destroy that Death Star, yeah?”

Leia and Y/n walked to the main board room, seeing how the map was already up on display. “General Jonas, we’ve been examining the Death Star plans. They’re on screen now,” one of her commanding officers recited. “Good, thank you, officer. Have we discovered a weak point yet? Or at least some form of entry point?”

“No, ma’am. We haven’t studied long enough. There are many ways in, but all most likely heavily guarded. We will have to find a way to go under the radar without getting detected, somehow,” he replied. She nodded, walking closer to examine it. She closed her eyes and felt out through the Force for some answer. No surprise to her, she could barely feel anything at all but an empty void. Ever since Anakin had died, she had felt more distanced from the Force than ever. Maybe she and Anakin possessed a rare Dyad, or maybe she had simply lost touch with the Force; but no matter what she did, she was nowhere near as powerful in the Force as she used to be.

“Alert me if you find anything, Officer, I would love to have this Death Star in shambles by the end of the month,” Y/n left to walk out and to ask Obi-Wan on the matter. “Yes, ma’am,” he responded, turning back to his computer to get back to work.

Elsewhere, Leia was pacing in Luke’s room, grumbling to herself, “I know Obi-Wan has taught us to not let our emotions guide us, but I can’t when it comes to him. He killed our father, he should be dead!” Leia huffed in anger, collapsing down onto her twin’s bed.

Luke grunted in response, his mouth full of food still, “It’s not like you can take him on yourself. You’d die!” he said, or at least, sounded like he said. “I will not let the lives of those lost who got us the plans in the first place’s memories die. We wouldn’t be this close to planning an attack without their sacrifices. Moreover, Mom has had these plans for two days now, and she hasn’t done a single thing about it!” Leia responded quickly. Luke shrugged, “Leia. Be real. It’s not like we can steal a ship and fly to the Death Star, find it’s a weak point, and get back in time for dinner.”

Leia sat up, looking at Luke as if he had just committed mass murder. “...What?” Luke asked warily. Leia grinned, “That’s it! We’ll do just that, Luke! We’ll take one of mom’s ships, fly around the death star undetected and find weak entry points, and get back like we were never even gone!”

“Leia, you can not be serious right now!” Luke gasped, setting his food down, “We can’t do this, we could get in so much trouble! Or spotted!”

“Do you want to sit idly while our mother and uncle do nothing, whereas our Father’s murderer is out on the lose on that moon!” Leia snapped at him. He narrowed his eyes, “That’s no moon, Leia. Also, no, I don’t! But do we have a choice? No. We’re staying here.”

“No, we’re leaving. Whether I go alone is up to you entirely, but at this point, I just want the man who killed my father dead,” Leia said, glaring at him. Luke huffed, “You think I don’t want him dead, too? But we are children, we literally can’t do anything!”

“We are 19 years old and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sit at home here and wait for Vader to kill more innocent people,” Leia frowned, crossing her arms. “I really need you with me, Luke. But I get it if you don’t go.” she stood up, grabbing her stuff to leave when Luke grumbled “Wait!” under his breath. “I’ll... go. Just to protect you. But this is a bad idea, and I don’t want to get caught,” he raised a brow to her. Leia grinned and hugged Luke tightly, “Thank you, thank you! You won’t regret this! But bring your lightsaber maybe, just in case?”

——————

“What do you mean, YOU LET THEM GO?” Y/n snapped to C3-PO, enraged. Threepio raised his hands in defense, “I couldn’t stop them, mistress! I tried my best, I swear!”

“You let my children go confront Vader ALONE? You’re so lucky I don’t shut you down for that!” she growled, shoving past him with Obi-Wan following close behind her. “Oh, dear. I’m doomed,” Threepio whined.

“We have to go after them, we... I can’t... I can’t lose my kids,” Y/n said nervously, starting to pace once Obi got close. “Y/n, calm down sweetheart. I need you to breathe and think,” Obi said, holding onto her shoulders gently. “If we go, we have an equal chance of being caught since they’ll already be on high alert.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head, “I hate you for being so levelheaded and smart, Obi,” she frowned. “That’s my specialty,” he winked. “Now, we need to stop and make sure that we can pull this rescue off without risking our lives, too.”

Meanwhile, at the Death Star, Vader was summoned by his leading captain because of an alert of an enemy ship flying nearby. “Bring them in, search them. They may know General Jonas.” “Yes, My Lord.”

Vader turned to leave the bridge towards the docking bay, to meet his guests personally. As he walked, his mind was filled with visions and memories from his dream the night before. Of her.

He sighed heavily, picking up speed as he neared the docking bay. Passing a group of stormtroopers, he pushed past them to be in front, crossing his arms. The door opened, and two stormtroopers walked out holding a young girl and boy, yelling at them to let go of them.

As soon as Vader looked at the two, he felt something... strange. A certain presence in the Force he had never felt before. What is this? Why do they feel familiar?

Vader dropped his arms, walking forward and raising his hand to stop the troopers, “Who are you? And why were you near my Death Star?”

His unmerciful, robotic voice rumbled through their chests, terrifying them. In all their years, they had never seen something so cold and unforgiving. “Don’t be petrified, answer me if you want to live,” Vader challenged, staring right at the boy.

“You killed our father,” Leia’s voice was cold, sad, and broken. She knew this was a bad idea, but it was too late now. “I wanted revenge.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, my princess, but I’ve killed many men. Your father was just another tick on my list, whoever he may be.”

“You son of a—!” Luke yelled, rushing to jump at him when the stormtroopers all turned their weapons on him, making him stop. Vader growled, “Insolent children. I don’t think you know who I am, truly. I’d crush you in a heartbeat, but seeing as you could have something of use to me... take them away, both of them,” Vader commanded. The two shouted in disagreement, and Vader simply stood and watched them struggle.

“You bitch! You’ll pay for what you did to our dad!” Luke yelled as he was taken away. Vader rolled his eyes from under the mask and walked back to his quarters. He knelt on the floor, taking his mask off as he called out to his Emperor through the force.

“What do you want, Lord Vader?” Palpatine growled, looking down at Vader’s hologram. “I felt something through the Force a few moments ago. My new hostages... they seem to be strong with it.”

“Really? Are you sure, my apprentice?”

“Yes, Master. More sure than anything.”

“Well, you know what you must do. Kill them. They could be Jedi if they tried opposing you,” Palpatine smirked. “They’re only children, which means they’re newer Jedi. Someone had to have trained them.”

“Children never stopped you before, don’t let it stop you now. Do it.”

“...Yes, my Master.” Vader ended the holomessage, sighing.

“Who are you two...?” he asked himself, reaching out through the Force and feeling they were still there.

Strange.

——————

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[enkisstories]

Poe reaches for Hux' collar and drags him outside. The others only hear the distinct hum of a lightsaber igniting - and then a second one.

Why the lightsaber, that neither of them can handle well, why not a blaster or an outright brawl? Hux fervently tries to remember a Psychology class he had attended in his cadet days. The killer who used melee weapons over blasters - was that the one reluctant to actually kill or had it been the other way around?

Armitage: "What is that for?! Finn started flirting with me, not the other way around! I didn't do anything!"

Poe: "You EXIST! That's what this is for! And don't pretend there wasn't a myriad of reasons other than the flirt that you deserve a laserblade into the belly for! I'll be doing the galaxy a favour!"

Armitage: "Nice feint, but you aimed high, for the head, not the guts. Aaaand parried!"

Poe: "What are you fighting for, even? Everything that is good in the galaxy, or might have become good, you only every destroyed..."

Absorbed in their duel, Poe and Armitage nevertheless glimpse their friends gather around them. Uncertain what to make of this fight, BB-8, Rey and Rose draw closer... too close! After a hectic maneuver of the duelists, Poe's blade very nearly cuts into Rose's shoulder.

Poe: "Stop me! Please, I beg of you... Block that swing!"

Armitage blocks with all his strength, but now they are locked. Whoever disengages first will get the other's blade into their face full force. Worse: Rose isn't moving. As tipsy from the Rylothberry wine as everyone else, she may not even be aware of what's going on around her.

The seconds stretch and the extended block isn't doing the blades any favour.

Poe: "Where's your tactical genius now?"

Armitage: "Where's your bold creativity?"

Their arms hurt, fingers grow sweaty, jittery. Wait - fingers? Simultaneously the combatents tilt the hilts of their sabers and push the off-switches. They still double over, but thankfully there are no more lightsaber blades between their bodies anymore.

Poe: "Ugh... what... Rose, I'm so sorry! I didn't want this! BB-8... Anybody..."

In the kitchen Finn is crying. Poe and Armitage don't need to see or hear it. They know, because they, too, cry.

An officer who displays weakness deserves either getting shouted back into shape or a kick in the face. That tenet Armitage has grown up with, but it sounds shallow all of a sudden.

Poe is shivering. The hero of the Resistance, rescuer of so many lifes - in this moment he is in need of getting held himself. But the one who would be most welcome to do so is slumped on the kitchen table, tearing himself up over a mistake he didn’t really make.

Armitage crawls closer, reaching for Poe, pulling him close. Slowly the shivering ceases, and the pilot’s gasping becomes normal breathing again. His heartrate is still a bit too fast and Poe’s breath betrays why: the blasted Rylothberry wine their host has served them. Calming someone just by holding them is power of a kind Armitage hasn’t exercised before, but power nonetheless. It feels good... or is that the wine muddying his mind? It certainly isn’t doing the Grand-Marshall’s tongue any favours, because he hears himself say:

"We'll end this war. I promise! After this mission, I’ll do whatever it takes to reinstate the truce between the First Order and the reb... the Resistance. No more fighting."

(Sims routing at its finest, lol. I can count myself lucky that BB-8 didn’t roll over Poe’s hand to make this even worse. The last screenshot is posed.)