#old Jedi Order

[allskywalkerswhine]

in fics where luke gets plopped into the prequels i want every jedi within ten metres of him to think hes the weirdest jedi theyve ever seen. he has negative lightsaber form. he doesnt know what a kata is. he handstands when he meditates. his solution to sith is to try and have a chat. hes a political radical who keeps suggesting revolution. you ask him what the jedi code is and he says "kindness and compassion and helping those in need :) ". you ask how he used the force like that and he says some shit about how you are a luminous being limited only by your mind. the councils authority is just a suggestion. he is somehow the new favourite of both qui gon and yoda

[jedischenanigans]

A detail about Order 66 that always makes me so profoundly sad to think about that I think gets over looked are the parents. The parents who gave their kids to the Jedi, many of whom were probably proud to know that their kids were out there helping people. In the rise of the new empire how many parents were mourning the massacre of their children? On top of that they probably could've even voice that grief to others without possible danger from the new regime.

[bon-sides-sw]

Cal's account Pt1

Part 2

[believe-in-alderaan]

Painful Echoes ◌

[coline7373]

[mrkestis]

I don’t think we fully appreciate what a powerful nightsister Merrin is.

Most nightsister spells are done with the combined efforts of a coven, but Merrin performs them all by herself (which is also really depressing).

Her ability to teleport is unique, and the only other person we’ve seen do something similar is mother fricking Talzin.

In Jedi Fallen order Merrin summons the army of the dead. In clone wars only Daka, the oldest and wisest of the nightsisters, could do that.

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

As much as I love Hal and Guy and John, sometimes I wonder what Green Lantern comics would've looked like if they never came back to their old roles. Like if instead of Geoff Johns's epic saga that begins with Hal's return, Kyle was allowed by editorial to succeed at restarting the Green Lantern Corps and became the leader of a new generation of GLs?

I think that would've been the natural progression of Kyle's character. For years he was called the last of the Green Lanterns and he carried that weight like Atlas holding up the sky. He tried so many times to rebuild the Corps that he'd only ever heard about from others, and so many times failed because he trusted the wrong people.

But what if instead, Kyle's faith in others was rewarded? What if his search for worthy ringbearers led him to the unlikeliest of candidates? A car thief suspected of terrorism, and a hermit too terrified to leave her apartment? The Guardians of old would have looked at Simon Baz and Jessica Cruz and found them utterly unfit to wear the ring. Many of the Justice League probably would too.

But Kyle Rayner was chosen by sheer, desperate chance in a dirty alleyway. He remembers the toll that unyielding demand for perfection took on his predecessors, how it broke Hal Jordan in the end. He remembers how he was just given the ring with no explanation or training or support and how that cost Alex her life. So Kyle chooses to help.

He helps Simon track down the real culprit behind the bomb. He helps Jessica find the men who murdered her friends. He teaches them that there is no shame or disgrace in fear, so long as they overcome it. And for once, Kyle Rayner's trust and optimism wins out.

The Green Lantern Corps is reborn. There may be only three of them now, but it's more than Kyle ever had before. He takes his partners (for all that he taught them everything they know, he considers them his equals) to the Watchtower. He introduces them to the Justice League, and then breaks the news that the two new Lanterns will replace him when he ventures out to the stars to continue recruiting.

But before Kyle leaves, there is one last thing to do. He brings Simon and Jessica to the Warriors bar in New York to meet their elders. John, Guy, and Alan already know of the new recruits, having heard through the grapevine (Oracle puts out very fast newsletters), but it's another thing entirely to see with their own eyes the small spark that Kyle had carried alone finally growing into a fierce blaze.

And unseen by all of them, Hal Jordan watches as the family he nearly destroyed begins to rise from the ashes. The Spectre feels a little more at peace because he knows that Kyle Rayner is not the last of the old Green Lanterns. Instead, he is the first of the new.

Part 2: Simon, Jessica, & Keli

Part 3: The Lantern at the End of the Universe

Part 4: The Last Guardian

[the-wandering-wayseeker]

I think the most frustrating/disheartening misconception I often see about Star Wars, and the Jedi specifically, is the misguided notion that love and attachment are one and the same. Which in turn leads to fundamental misunderstandings of who the Jedi are and what their teachings on non-attachment mean. While you absolutely can be attached to those you love, you do not need attachment to have love for someone. That's as true in Star Wars as it is in real life. The reason that Jedi teach non-attachment is because attachment leads to suffering, and suffering is a path to the Dark Side. This, like many other facets of Jedi philosophy, takes inspiration from Buddhism. Buddhism teaches non-attachment for the same reason: to mitigate or eliminate suffering, which is caused by greed, delusion, and/or aversion. This does not mean that the Jedi are forbidden from loving others. They are forbidden from developing attachments to others, which is why the Order, by the time of the Clone Wars, has outright banned romantic relationships. It's hard to be in a romantic relationship without attachment. But Jedi can love, and do. We see beautiful friendships throughout Star Wars. Parental-like relationships between Master and Padawan. Sibling-like relationships between Master and Padawan. Outside of the Clone Wars era, especially in the High Republic, we often see the Jedi in acts of loving service. Obviously, what that looks like varies from individual to individual, but that loving compassion for all living things is absolutely instrumental to being a Jedi.

[obiwancreampie]

cant relate to people who think the jedi order are boring. what do you mean you dont find the organisation of people with catholic guilt who think theyre acting as galaxy Fixers while acting more like a pseudo-police force—the organisation of people who desperately, truly, purely, want to do good in the universe but are deeply flawed in their execution—the order that has an ideology with kernels of wisdom but also deep running flaws that place it on a path to ruin that those leading cant even see for decades, centuries as it slowly unravels everything—the order that stagnated and stubbornly refused to change until it died, even as something light and good and irreplaceable died with it—so utterly fascinating

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

Sometimes I think about Cal being an explorer/archaeologist for the Order if it had never fallen and I cry

[psychomusic]

presenting to you: vegoia laran!

vegoia is the daughter of suri and tar'x laran, so, she's half-mirialan and half-zabrak. she lived on the mountains of mirial with her family until she began her jedi training at around 10 years, then she became a jedi seer.

more of her childhood under the cut! the rest of her story will be on other posts, I'll link them at the end when I'll post them

thank you @furious-blueberry0 for letting me use your padawan braid idea and jedi seer headcanon!! i really really love these ideas <3

since her birth, she seemed special at the eyes of her people, due to an old local myth: the founding witch.

(the myth is: a powerful witch, haunted by complex visions of the future, was exiled to the desert planet of mirial. after years spent traveling she had one clear vision on top of a mount, in which she saw the potential beauty of the valley, full of different lifeforms flourishing. with her magical powers, she turned that possible future into a reality, and everything changed: the 4 peoples who lived there started turning into trees and animals, what once was sterile rock became fertile ground, and craters were filled with water. but despite her good work, the incomprehensible visions kept returning. tired of the universe's infinite lessons, she decided to crystalize all of her visions and knowledge into the sacred crystal, and prophetized, before dying, that one day someone attuned to it would come to claim the crystal and understand the lessons she couldn't understand)

because of her albinism (that made her white like the crystal) and of her horns (the crystal has an horned shape), people thought she was the prophetized one. when she began to talk - rather late, and asked people to resolve the riddles that "a bearded man told her in her dreams" - what was just a rumor solidified into a belief.

her mother and grandfather, both in the high priesthood, taught her everything they could. they taught her to study, to reflect, and they explained to her their religion and folklore. also, her mother often tried to help her in her quest of finding answers. from her, vegoia learned how to study, and the right mindset to be able, later, to explore the jedi's philosophy and beliefs.

but it was her father that, despite his absence, taught her how to compromise with her visions, how to be patient, how to handle the state of ignorance, and how to enjoy it anyway. he was somehow better at understanding her, and making her understand things, than everyone else in the town. maybe, it was because he not only had met different force users, but also had experience with a force sensitive kid (his little brother, whom vegoia shared a lot of similar traits). despite her mother being a healer & priestess, and believing in the value in helping people, it was her father who really grounded that belief in her. in particular, he did it in a moment that. also shaped her experience of the force. a simple moment, though: she had asked him to kill a scary bug that was laying flat on its back, but he refused and instead asked her to help it. he believed that helping is what gives life sense - even more than the bonds we make, because it can't be undone. when vegoia picked up the bug and helped it get back on its feet, she could feel the bug's relief, and maybe even gratitude, through the force. this was the imprint of her experience of the force: connection (even more than her visions, that just "happened" to her, and couldn't actively call upon her).

BUT I DIGRESSED way too much on her childhood. the most important event in her childhood was the day she was taken by the jedi, even if she didn't know what truly happened that day.

the SIS had been tracking her father's movements for a while and had found out about his trips to mirial. worried that the empire was planning something, they sent a squad of operatives to investigate. since his father had often worked for the dark council, the SIS requested a jedi to come with them. when they arrived, suri went to talk to them. they threatened her into talking and she told them of their secret family. the SIS decided to take them prisoners, capture him when he got back, and make him talk using his family as leverage. the jedi disagreed with such methods but the operation was under the SIS's jurisdiction. suri then tried to convince them to leave the town and her daughter, and to instead blackmail him with her. the SIS refused, fearing that the sith might kill him before he could even know about the blackmailing. the jedi, feeling vegoia's strong presence in the force decided to make a deal: vegoia would've come with him to the temple to become a jedi. she'd still have a life, while suri would stay under their custody for the SIS trap. this would also show the agent the difference between the republic and the empire, and hopefully that would help him talk. she accepted at one condition: that they took her away before her father came back, so that she wouldn't have to live through it. vegoia didn't know of her father's real job, like everyone else in the town (everyone thought he had traded his services to the hutts to have the sacred horned crystal back).

they agreed, but, while suri was busy packing thing for vegoia, the SIS decided to put another condition. vegoia musn't be told anything about that day until her father had been taken into republic's custody, as a precaution. the jedi agreed, thinking it wouldn't be long before her father would come home and be arrested. little did he know this momentary omission would grow into a years-old lie.

[bon-sides-sw]

Mommy 💖💖💖

[Uni Au]

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

POV: You're reading a Star Wars fic, you love it, it hits you in all the right ways, the main characters are funny lame and relatable and the themes are just perfect.

Then comes a misunderstanding of Jedi philosophy, negative views on the Jedi seen as in the right or Luke Skywalker as a gray Jedi (bonus points if he follows Jedi philosophy to a T but the author missed the point).

And then you get frustrated and can't enjoy the fic.

[omaano]

A tragedy in action

If I don't look at canon it doesn't exist, but at the end of last year I was commissioned to paint this Order66 moment by CJ on Instagram. It was a very challenging but also amazingly emotional and very inspiring prompt - and while I've never drawn such an action focused pose before I am very pleased with how it turned out.

I also very badly missed using this much purple in my pictures TT^TT

Captain Dev and Padawan Jilia belong to CJ

[thelibrarian1895]

Mandalorians hate Jedi because...

"the Jedi are child stealers" NO

And again I say NO. I saw someone claim this and it absolutely infuriated me.

First point, THE JEDI ARE NOT CHILD STEALERS. That accusation is sithspit anti jedi propaganda. If a parent or guardian told the Jedi no, they didn't want their kid to be a Jedi, the Jedi respected that. They would, however, remove children from danger. But would you call a social worker who took children from environments where they were being molested, starved, beaten, or worse, a child stealer? No? Then don't call the Jedi child stealers for the same actions.

Second point, the average Mandalorian didn't really know or care too much about Jedi. In all honestly, most Mandalorians, like the rest of the galaxy, had no real idea about the difference between Jedi or other force sects like the nightsisters or general darksiders or even the sith except perhaps the color of their lightsabers. Some Mandalorians, like our beloved Din Djarin, knew nothing at all about Jedi and only cared when in became relevant and then did as much research as possible regarding the Jedi. Others, like Jango Fett, had very personal interactions with Jedi and formed their opinions of the Jedi as a whole based on those interactions with no further reason or desire to look further into the Jedi.

Third point, for Mandalorians who studied history or listened to old stories, they knew why the Mandalorians disliked the Jedi and it was for a very simple reason that they liked to avoid actively admitting. That reason? The Jedi kicked the shebs of the Mandalorian armies.

Twice.

Quite possibly there was another point when the Jedi suppressed the Mandalorian empire but there were two times for certain. Granted, the republic played a large part and the Jedi definitely didn't all interfere in one of those two conflicts, and actually actively avoided one of those two conflicts except in a few cases, and there were definitely some terrible things done, but the fact remains that when the Mandalorian empire attempted to expand and basically take over the galaxy, the Jedi were key to stopping this. And no, the Mandalorian empire was not a good thing. But more importantly, if you thought your ancestors or your cultures' armies were in the right and they were beaten, would you like the descendants of those who beat your side?

Fourth point, would you like the side that beat your side if they refused to give you a proper rematch? The Mandalorians who know anything about Jedi know that Jedi have access to all this power, plus generally have a super cool plasma sword, but the Jedi won't fight or they'll de-escalate or generally indulge in pacifistic behavior and we all know how Mandalorians feel about presumed pacifists, right? A Mandalorian denied a fight is often a frustrated Mandalorian. A Mandalorian who sees someone who has all this strength and power often doesn't understand why that person doesn't use that power, doesn't take revenge or slaughter their enemies or a million other things that they would do with such power. So those that don't understand choose to dislike. Why won't the Jedi fight them?! (please imagine the sentence immediately previous spoken in an extremely whiney tone of voice)

Fifth point, the Mandalorians frequently throughout history worked with the Sith or were on the Sith side of conflicts because of a lack of knowledge about force sects meant the Mandalorians didn't generally realize how absolutely stupid it is to side with the Sith but beyond that the Mandalorians often learned about the Jedi from the Sith. So the Mandalorians got stories from the Sith about the Jedi being weak and cold and blah, blah, blah stupid sith propaganda that I don't want to perpetuate. And those Mandalorians would then think themselves Jedi experts, because hadn't they learned about the Jedi from another Jedi? Granted, a dark Jedi but still a Jedi, right? So they'd tell other Mandalorians the propaganda and so the Mandalorians had that Sith skewed idea of the Jedi perpetuated throughout their history.

So the Mandalorians have their own reasons for not like the Jedi, which have NOTHING to do with child stealing, just as the Jedi have plenty of reasons to want to avoid the Mandalorians. Personally though I'm going to blame a lot of those reasons on both sides on the Sith and be grumpy about the Sith and the effectiveness of their propaganda.

And finally, I'm pretty sure at least a tiny bit of the animosity between Mandalorians and Jedi arose from the Mandalorians being jealous that the Jedi had lightsabers and they didn't. To be fair, I'm a little jealous too. Lightsabers are cool.

[goosewriting]

could I request a inquisitor!cal x reader where the reader is a new inquisitor and cal offers to give them extra training and cal tries to flirt and be romantic with them? I feel like this could be kind of cute and have a little good ol tension :)

Trophy

summary: after reader joins Cal as an Inquisitor, they discover a new way to deal with the ugly parts of the dark side.

relationship: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!Jedi!reader (turned inq!reader)

warnings: 18+, mention of a spider but as a metaphor, dubious consent but like regarding the force, manipulation, violence and injuries, mentions of death, suicidal ideation of you squint

word count: 4.8k

A/N: “cal tries to flirt and be romantic” you said, and i went “ofc! here’s cal and reader pining over each other, angrily :)” i mainly focused on the good ol’ tension tbh, and i combined it with another inq!cal that many asked a second part for, but i hope i made your request justice nonetheless :’D 

this is a sequel to loth-cat and mouse, so make sure you read that one first!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

After weeks of getting chased from planet to planet, with Cal always one step right behind you, it all comes down to one final encounter. You’re beyond exhausted, your senses completely numb and on fire all at once. You’re barely holding yourself up, not having slept or eaten properly in a concerningly long time. Body, mind and soul; all of you is worn out, and you feel like there’s nothing else you have to give. 

You stand on one side of the abandoned street, surrounded by ruins of a once prospering city, now overtaken by vegetation and little critters that you hear scurrying in a nearby bush. Holding your lightsabre in front of you with both hands, trembling, you square up as you hold Cal’s harsh gaze. 

Standing on the other side of the dusty path, he stands as leisurely as ever, his unignited weapon hangs loosely from one of his hands at his side. He calls your name as he slowly walks towards you.

“Think about everyone who’s wronged you, us!” he taunts you, taking a second after every step to gauge your reaction. “About the clones that turned on us. Our masters who left us behind. The galaxy turning their back on the Jedi. Now they are a threat to the peace brought by the Empire, so in Lord Vader’s name, we have a new purpose, to get rid of them.”

“Do you really believe that Imperial propaganda nonsense?” you ask, taking one step back as he keeps approaching. Your throat is awfully dry.

“I serve Lord Vader,” he says, his free hand extended to point at you. “And when all this is over, you will too. And you’ll thank me for it, for the power you will be able to acquire thanks to the dark side. Power like you’ve never felt.”

In the blink of an eye, his weapon activates with a whirr, the red column painting the surroundings with a crimson hue. Like it’s covered in blood, you think. My blood. Cal charges at you, and you retaliate, your sabres clashing once, twice, then he Force-pushes you backwards. As you stumble to keep your balance, he knocks the weapon out of your hands. Placing one foot behind yours, he grabs you by your shirt and pushes you back, making you fall and hit the ground. For a second, the impact knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you lie underneath him with your mouth open like a fish choking on air. 

Turning off his sabre, Cal kneels down beside you, still holding you down.

“Don’t make me kill you,” he says, strangely amused. “We’ve come this far.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you spit back, pushing yourself off the ground but he holds you down and you grunt. You want to give in so, so badly. But you hold yourself up on your elbows. “Why are you so insistent? Just kill me and get this over with.”

“Pity? Is that what you think is happening here, that I’m trying to save you?” Cal laughs, and you blink as the sun from behind him blinds you momentarily. Then he leans in a bit, shielding you with his shadow. "Here’s a secret: this isn’t for you. It’s for me. Unlike the Jedi, I’m allowed to be selfish. To want things. To have things. And one of the things I want is you.”

“What, like a trophy?” you scoff.

“Something like that.” 

You try to push yourself up again, to no avail. Your eyes dart to the side where your sabre landed, and you wonder if you can summon it to you without him noticing. Given how weak you are, probably not. Cal lifts his gaze from you to look around, scanning the surroundings for a moment, blowing a raspberry like he’s getting bored. Then he brings his attention back to you. 

“Aren’t you tired of being alone? Tired of running? Hiding? Just so tired of everything,” he asks, and it sounds almost genuine. You feel your resolution falter, your upper arms starting to tremble, aching from the effort, begging you to just let yourself fall back completely. 

“ I- I am,” you breathe.

After clipping his weapon to his belt, Cal holds his now free hand over your face, and you can feel a shift. A cloud starts shrouding your senses, your sight. You take in a sharp breath as fear starts settling in, but it's quickly replaced with something else. Something warm and fuzzy, like a comfortable weight grounding you.

“Come with me and you can forget all about it,” Cal demands, his voice gentle. “At my side you will always be fed. Safe. You’ll be untouchable. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyelids are starting to feel heavy.

“That does sound kinda nice,” you whisper, closing your eyes. 

“Right?” The weight pushes a little harder. “Don’t fight it. Come with me. Give in.”

Your eyes shoot open, brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat on your forehead from the effort.

“N-No, I can’t.”

But it’s too late now; the sliver of fog has spread throughout your body, dulling out all your thoughts, weighing down your limbs. 

Suddenly, the warmth becomes burning hot, and you squirm, breath quickening when you feel the ever present sting on your skin starting to turn painful.

“I need you to say it,” Cal says, his hovering hand inching a little closer to your temple. “Say you’ll come with me.”

The weight sitting on your gut and limbs starts growing thorns, digging into your flesh, and you yelp. 

“I’m not going with you,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, one of your hands clawing at his gloved wrist on your chest. “Kill me, Cal. Promise me you’ll kill me.”

You see him swallow at the use of his name, and his scowl deepens.

Your brain is so fogged up, you can't form one more coherent thought. All you feel right now is pain, despair. You know it was just a matter of time before the claws of death would catch up to you. You are tired. So so tired.  

“I can make the pain go away,” Cal promises, leaning in, and if you had any sense left in your body, you’d feel his warm breath tickle your ear. “Just say the word.”

What little resolution was left in you leaves your body like a small puddle of water immediately evaporating off the hot permacrete in the sun. You groan, swallowing thickly. 

“Okay. Take me,” you croak out, barely audible, and Cal does good on his word. The pain ceases instantaneously, the fuzzy blanket wraps around you once more, and your mind is transported into an almost sterile slumber. Finally, you can rest. 

— — — — —

After several days of reconditioning, you get to bleed your kyber crystal and rebuild your weapon. When you walk out of the arena, feeling your new sabre’s still unfamiliar weight in your hands, it’s like your mind and soul have been remade. There's a new type of focus you've never felt electrifying your whole body, your mind strangely quiet, crisp. 

Then it’s time to meet Darth Vader. 

Cal guides you into one of the offices in the Fortress Inquisitorious, your new home. Vader is standing by the window, looking out onto the seemingly eternal stretches of water covering the moon you’re on. When he hears you come in, he turns around to face you. He doesn’t really greet you nor acknowledge the fact you’re new. He just gets down to business, talking about a mission he wants you two to go on.

Your eyes are set on the Sith’s black mask as you listen to his instructions. But it doesn’t take long for your focus to fade as you go stiff when you feel a presence in the Force, prodding at you. It’s unlike anything you've ever felt before: Vader. He moves slowly, almost imperceptibly, like the long legs of a spider testing out the tension on the strands of its web, poking here and there to pinpoint the location of the prey which, the more it moves, the more tangled it will be. In this case, he’s testing out your resolution, your current mental and emotional state, trying to find the tiniest hint of doubt in your heart, so you hold your ground against him.

On the outside there's no change at all. He talks about the mission, mainly addressing Cal, briefly explaining who the target is and where to find them, before handing him a datachip. 

Usually, new Inquisitors get to join a more experienced one only a handful of times. After that, everything you do is your own burden to carry. Learn fast and adapt to live. Or straggle and fall behind, directly into Vader’s blade.

But Cal is insistent on having you at his side, always. He’s unabashedly protective of you, making sure that everyone knows you belong with him. That you’re not to be messed with. And the others seem to respect that, for whatever reason.

It doesn’t take long for you to realise that Cal and you make a good team, actually. The more missions you go on together, the more it feels like you share a connection, anticipating what the other is about to do and handling accordingly. Like you've known each other your whole life. Or maybe like you've met in a different life altogether. You're not sure anymore. 

But as time passes, you can also feel the sharper edges of the dark side starting to cut into you. Every night carries a new nightmare, and every day the whispers in your mind start to get louder and louder, until it’s a constant cacophony of voices and screams playing in the background.

It’s on a mission a couple of weeks after you became an Inquisitor that it catches up to you.

Getting to the target was relatively easy; the former Jedi hadn’t really stayed too hidden, openly using his powers to help others. And word of such things spreads fast. 

The hunt takes you to a temperate planet on the Outer Rim. In any other circumstance, you would have liked to take in the scenery, but there’s no time for that now. Once you land in the settlement, Cal, you and your two Purge Troopers beeline for the last known location of your target.

When you arrive at the central plaza, people make space for you four, starting to gather around or leaving the scene entirely. The Troopers start questioning the bystanders, and Cal calls out loudly for them to hand over the fugitive, threatening them. You scan the crowd, and everyone avoids your gaze, but they don’t move. 

After a few moments, tensions rise to their peak, and someone starts taking shots at you from behind. Panic erupts in the mass of people and they all scramble. Movement from a nearby roof catches your attention. You turn just in time to see a large crate being pushed off the ledge, right above Cal. Lifting your arm, you Force-push it away, and it lands next to a somewhat startled Cal, disintegrating into splinters, its contents of heavy rocks and scrap metal spilling out. 

The crate was enough of a distraction for you that you don’t see the Trooper behind you getting tackled by a bystander built like a wardrobe. Even after the Trooper lost his footing, he gets dragged and pushed into you from behind. You get thrown off-balance yourself for a moment. Turning around, irritated, you take a big swing with your sabre, hitting the local across the chest and he falls to the ground, his clothes and flesh sizzling. But your swing was so big, you also hit the Trooper, who cries out in pain and collapses.

“What are you doing!” Cal calls out you.

The shots continue and you two deflect them as the other Trooper carries the injured one to a nearby building for cover. Once the blaster fire dies down and the dust clouds start to settle, you're left on a deserted street, everyone is gone. Somewhere in the distance you see the target's ship take off, and Cal groans in frustration.

He turns towards you, anger etched into his face. You glare right back. He looks like he wants to say something, but leaves it be, his jaw tensing. He walks to the Troopers and announces you’re all going back to the ship, muttering under his breath that he should have put a tracker on the Jedi’s transport just in case. The injured man walks with a limp, his companion carrying most of his weight. Cal and you walk at the front in silence.

Soon after, you're both at the holotable on the ship reporting back to the Grand Inquisitor. His image trembles with static as it’s projected on top of the half circle table coming out of the side wall in the cockpit. Neither of you really ever wear a helmet, so your faces are both flushed and dusty. 

Cal keeps his retelling short, not mentioning your mishap.

After the call is done, you cast a quick glance to the back of the ship where the men are tending to the injury. Now that you’re taking a closer look and he’s sitting down, you can see his leg has a slash from your sabre, half of the armour plate shaved clean off. The other Trooper is at his side, getting some first aid packet ready. 

You turn back to Cal when you hear him sigh in annoyance.

“Now we have to pick up the trail from scratch,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That rat is probably already gone off-planet and left the system.”

“You've found him before, you can do it again,” you merely offer, inspecting your weapon like you’re looking for something. Cal chuckles wryly.

“Of course it’s my job to find him. Again,” he deadpans. 

“Yeah, well you're the one with psychometry. Sorry I couldn't be as gifted as you,” you retort in a mocking tone, clipping your sabre back to your belt. When you look back up, Cal holds your gaze for a second longer before speaking. 

“I can take care of myself. I didn't need you intervening back then,” he says, taking a step closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“Are you kidding me?” you scoff, meeting him half-way. “If it weren't for me, you would have been crushed.”

“Yeah, and thanks to you, my trooper almost loses a leg.”

“Well, maybe this will teach him to have better aim.”

You're almost face to face now, venom in your voices as you snap at each other. He holds your icy glare for a moment, then turns away with a curse under his breath, running a hand through his fiery hair. 

When he turns again to face you, he's a couple steps away, hands on his hips as he looks at the ground with furrowed brows. Then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, lips pressed into a tight line.

“What's up with you lately anyways? You've been messing up more than usual.”

“More than–?” You bring your hand to your chest, taking genuine offence. “Oh I'm sorry, am I not doing good enough for Mister Perfect?”

Cal narrows his eyes and visibly bites the inside of his cheeks, showing that it's taking some restraint to not take the bait and lash out again. He takes a deep breath, squaring up his shoulders a bit.

“You know what I mean. You're… unfocused.”

He looks at you for a long moment, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides as you look away. Because he's right. You are. But how can you properly convey the horrible things going through your mind? Should you even tell him or will that only make him think you’re weak?

“I'd ask if you didn't sleep well last night, but, well…” he says.

You both know that the nightmares are just part of who you are now. You try to let them pass the best you can. By now you know that the more you try to fight them, the worse they get. And you've both heard each other mumble and cry in your sleep when you had to spend the night in the ship or in a tent when out on a mission. So it's a given that a good night's sleep is a rarity for either of you. 

The dark circles around your eyes have gotten worse in the last days though, you'll admit. It's like everything that's happened has finally caught up to you now. 

“There's just… so much…” you say, pointing at your head, then placing the open palms of your hands on your temples, chest heaving with shallow breaths. “It never stops. The screams, the anger, the pain.”

Your eyes dart up to find Cal’s, and your glare intensifies as a thought occurs to you.

“You. You did this,” you mumble.

“What?” he questions, incredulous. 

“You did this to me,” you say, louder this time, hissing as you stalk up to him, poking him in the chest.

Cal takes a step to the side with a click of his tongue, checking to see if the two Troopers in the cargo hold heard you. They seem to have finished tending to their wounds and are both sitting on the bench, talking to each other in hushed tones, sans helmets. 

“You said you'd make the pain go away,” you say through gritted teeth. “You lied.”

Cal slams his fist into the panel by the door separating the cockpit, and the doors whoosh closed. 

“I saved you,” he spits back at you. “If not for me, you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“In case it wasn't clear, that's what I wanted.” You take in a shaky breath, voice growing in volume, unbothered by the two men on the other side of the door. “I wanted you to kill me. You promised me you would. Instead you turn me into this.” You gesture vaguely at yourself.

“I promised and I did. Your old self is dead. This, as you say–” He mockingly imitates your gesture. “–is thanks to me. You were like a scared kid, running around in circles, and I made a warrior out of you.”

“Good grief, Kestis.” You let out a wry chuckle with raised brows. “You have a real hero complex, you know that? It's messed up.”

“I already told you, I did it for me,” he says with an annoyed huff. “It has nothing to do with saving you. I'm not trying to be the hero. There is no version of this story where I'm the hero, and I'm fine with that.”

“Are you? Because it looks to me like you're trying really hard to be one. What do you want, attention? Recognition? For the Grand Inquisitor or Vader to tell you you’re a good boy?” you scoff, shooting him a condescending look. “Maybe you are just their little lapdog after all.”

Being the only Inquistor with psychometry at the moment, Cal gets called hound often by the others, insinuating that he’s only good for picking up trails and tracking targets. So your comment definitely hits a nerve, and Cal’s whole face tenses up, brows furrowed so deep you can see the crinkles around his nose. He's on you in a split second, grabbing the shoulder straps of your armour to pin you to the wall with a forceful push. You groan at the impact, never averting your eyes from his. 

“That felt good, didn't it?” he asks after a pause. Your smug face turns into one of confusion. “The voices in your head, they just went quiet for a moment, didn't they?” 

You look to the side for a moment, and the onslaught of horrible thoughts crashes again over your mind, filling up all nooks and crannies. He's right; for just a moment, you forgot all about your own torment.

“Sometimes, the best way to shut up the voices is to project them onto someone else.” He loosens his grip a bit, you feel the relief of your chest armour not digging into your ribs anymore, and you take a deep breath. “But not like this. I'm no hero, but I'm not your enemy.”

A hint of pain crosses his face, the like you haven't seen in a long time. That's when you realise your lapdog comment genuinely hurt him. You're not going to apologise for it, though. Still, your tone softens.

“It's just…” Your shoulders would have slumped forward if not for Cal holding you in place. “It’s just so much, all the time.”

“It's a burden we all carry. The price for the power of the dark side. But you're stronger than all of it,” he says, his hands moving to the sides of your arms to hold you in place as you've started trembling slightly. Your own hands come to his chest for balance. “The voices are loud, so scream right back at them. Scream louder.”

“What's louder than all of this…” You look for the right word, your hands curling into fists on his armour plate. “All this grief?”

Judging by the look on his face, you think he does have an answer, but doesn't offer it. Why, you think, is it something I have to figure out for myself or something? The fact that you're starting to feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes makes it all worse.

“How do you do it?” you demand to know, hating the pleading sound in your voice. “How do you get them to shut up, even for a second?”

Cal’s head jerks back ever so slightly as he ponders the question, his face distressingly neutral.

“I look at you,” he finally answers. 

“Wha–”

“I promised to take the pain away. I intend to make good on it.”

Before you can ask what he means, he closes the gap between you two, bringing his lips to yours. It’s quick and chaste and for the very short time it lasts, you can only think of one thing: nothing. Your mind went completely quiet, finally. 

When he pulls back and looks down at you, there's something new in his gaze, something akin to fear, scared you'll push him away. But he couldn’t be more wrong. You want to chase it, need the voices to subside if only momentarily. So your hands travel up his chest to hold his face, bringing him back to you. 

Cal doesn't need to be asked twice, and he angles his head to deepen the kiss. You can't help the sound that escapes you, sighing into his mouth, and his arms circle around your back, pulling you as close to him as your armours will allow. Your lips move together, quickly finding a rhythm as you savour each other, the intensity levels rising exponentially. 

As you break apart to breathe, both of you panting, his hands travel down your sides to the underside of your thighs, lifting you off the floor. You hold onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his waist as he turns around and brings you to the holotable behind the copilot seat, where only moments before you’d held the holocall with your superior. 

Cal sets you down onto the console, pressing his hips flush against yours, and captures your lips in his once more. He leaves a trail of wet kisses on your jaw and what little exposed neck he can reach that isn't covered by your clothes, intoxicated by the little sounds leaving your lips as he bites and licks over the marks he leaves. Your hands find their way into his hair, and he sighs into your skin, one of his hands on your back to hold you in place and the other on the wall next to your head for support. 

For a moment, all you can feel is the clash of lips and tongues and heavy breaths as you kiss Cal like your life depends on it. And maybe it does. 

When you both start to really feel the lack of oxygen, you break apart, not without giving his lips one last nibble as he pulls back. He rests his forehead on yours, your chests heaving in sync. 

“Did it work?” he asks after a moment, and you can't help but chuckle softly. Your gloved hand cups his cheek, thumb running over his freckles as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes.

“For now, yeah,” you say, expecting him to let you down, but he keeps you where you are. “But the voices might come back again. Can I enlist your services again, then?”

“I'm counting on it,” he says, a handsome smile on his lips that you haven’t seen before. It makes your heart do a summersault and your stomach explode in butterflies, and you know then and there that this man will absolutely ruin you, and you can’t wait for him to do so.

Cal starts leaning in again, but before he can kiss you, the doors suddenly whoosh open. Your whole body tenses up. Looks like Cal’s plan was so effective that neither of you even sensed the Trooper walking to the cockpit. 

“Sir, we–” Even through his helmet you can feel the mortified look on the Trooper’s face at what he’s met with.

“What,” Cal barks as he cranes his head around to look at the man in black. The hand he had on the wall for support comes down as he stands up straight, instead placing it around your thigh to press your leg furhter into his side, as if to underline he's busy right now. The gesture takes you off-guard, and you do your best to glare at the Trooper through the heat that erupts on your face.  

“We, uh, we got word from a surveillance station in a nearby system.” Despite his helmet facing forward, you can sense his eyes on you. “They’ve found the target’s ship. It's being tracked as we speak.”

“Good,” Cal says, and turns back to you to take in your state, a mischievous glint in his eye. He takes his time, the Trooper standing there waiting for orders while your whole body is set ablaze by the look in the Inquisitor’s fiery eyes. Finally, he turns back around. “Send the coordinates to the main console. We’re leaving right away.”

“Yes, Sir,” the Trooper says with a curt nod. He's about to turn around when you call for him.

“How’s uh, the other Trooper doing?” you ask, surprising even yourself. You try to sit up on the console, but the angle has you still half sitting, half lying back, and with your legs in the air you can’t get leverage. You shift awkwardly instead, with Cal still between your thighs, so you immediately give up, dignity be damned. You dare glance up to Cal, who’s looking down at you with a smug grin, head tilted slightly to the side as if asking “got a problem?”. You inwardly curse him out; he’s enjoying your flustered face way too much.

“He’s stable for now,” the Trooper says, and hesitates for a second before adding, “If I may… I think it’s best for him to sit out the next one.”

Usually you don’t care much for the Troopers, but this one standing up for his friend stirs something within you, so you give him a nod.

“We’ll make sure there’s a medical team when we arrive.”

“Thank you,” the Trooper says in a slightly surprised tone. Cal turns his head to look at him, so he’s quick to add, “S-Sir.” He salutes and leaves as he’s typing on his datapad, the doors close behind him and the console at the front of the cockpit beeps.

Now Cal’s attention is back on you and you squirm again. Your sitting position is starting to get uncomfortable.

“Can you let me down now?” you ask with a playful roll of your eyes, and he finally steps back for you to slide off the table and onto your feet. You almost fall, still weak in the knees, so you hold onto Cal for support, who helps you stand on your legs. Taking a step back, you look up at him. “Was that really necessary? I’d rather they don’t see us when… you know.”

Cal turns to the console with a chuckle, checking the coordinates the Trooper sent, and presses a couple of buttons for the nav system to start calculating the route. You sigh with a shake of your head as you look down at yourself, fixing your armour plates that sit a little askew. 

You look up when you feel something on your chin. Cal is holding the unignited end of his lightsabre to your face to guide you to look back up at him. He meets your eyes, and his fiery irises seem to glow even more than usual.

“I let him watch so he doesn’t get any ideas,” he says, stepping even closer to you until you can feel his breath fanning over your cheek, and softly taps the lightsabre on the armour above your heart. “You’re mine and mine alone.”

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A/N2: you know when you read something and you can totally see what the author’s tells are? yeah… i kept shaking my head at myself as i was editing this because at this point my inq!cal has just become “slam me against a wall and make out with me” galore lmao I AM CRINGE BUT I AM FREE RAAH

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