#republic systems defender

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #30

August 2-9 2024

The Department of Interior announced the largest investment since 1979 in outdoor recreation and conservation projects. The $325 million will go to support State, territorial, DC, and tribal governments in buying new land for parks and outdoor recreation sites. It also supports expansion and refurbishment of existing sites.

The EPA announced that Birmingham Alabama will get $171 million to update and replace its water system. The city of Birmingham is 70% black and like many black majority cities as struggled with aging water systems and lead pipes causing dangerous drinking water conditions. This investment is part of the Biden-Harris administrations plan to replace all of the nation's lead pipes.

The Department of Energy announced $2.2 billion in investments in the national power grid to help boost resiliency in the face of extreme weather. The projects will add 13 gigawatts of capacity, support 5,000 new jobs and upgrade 1,000 miles of transmission. Major projects will cut power outages in the west, drive down energy prices in New England, add off shore wind, and enable the development of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s wind resources.

The Justice Department won its massive anti-trust case against Google. A federal judge ruled that Google was an illegal monopoly. The DOJ has an ongoing antitrust suit against Apple, while the Federal Trade Commission is suing Facebook and Amazon for their monopolist practices

The US Government announced $3.9 billion in direct aid to Ukraine. The money will help the Government of Ukraine make up for massive budget short falls caused by the war with Russia. It'll help pay the salaries of teachers, emergency workers, and other public employees, as well helping displaced persons, low-income families and people with disabilities.

The Department of Energy announced $190 million to improve air quality and energy upgrades in K-12 schools. The grants to 320 schools across 25 states will impact 123,000 students, 94% of these schools service student bodies where over half the students qualify for free and reduced lunch. In the face of climate change more schools have been forced to close for extreme heat. These grants will help schools with everything from air filtration, to AC, to more robust energy systems, to replacing lighting.

USAID announced $424 million in additional humanitarian aid to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Due to ongoing conflict and food insecurity, 25 million Congolese are in need of humanitarian aid. This year alone the US has sent close to a billion dollars in aid to the DRC, making it the single largest donor to the crisis.

The Senate approved President Biden's appointment of Stacey Neumann of Maine, Meredith Vacca of New York, and Joseph Saporito Jr. of Pennsylvania to life time federal Judgeships. This brings the total of judges appointed by President Biden to 205. President Biden is the first President who's judicial nominations have not been majority white men, Judge Vacca is the first Asian American to serve in her district court. President Biden has also focused on former public defenders, like Judge Saporito, and former labor lawyers like Judge Neumann, as well as civil rights lawyers.

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[memories-of-ancients]

Just curious, why do you think Rome fell?

OMG do you really have to ask such a big question right before I was going to bed anon? Well, here are the primary reasons IMO as a Roman history buff.

Lots of Civil Wars --- The Romans going way back to the days of the Republic were constantly fighting over who was going to be boss. Sulla fought a civil war and took over Rome and declared himself dictator, ditto Julius Caesar, and of course Octavian did the same and became the first emperor. During the empire there were many civil wars over who would be emperor as the Imperial system often lacked rules for succession resulting in dynastic struggles and civil wars. Not that it would have mattered if they did, as they probably would have just ignored the rules. In the 3rd century the empire underwent a 50 year period of near constant civil war known as the Crises of the Third Century. Constantine became emperor after killing all his opponents in a civil war. The later half of the 4th century had more civil wars. Even in the 5th century factions were fighting each for control of an empire that was collapsing all around them. No side wins a civil war because they are bloody, destructive, there are no spoils of war. There is only self destruction, they are about as helpful to a country as would a person shooting himself in the foot. All the money and resources that went into fighting civil wars and rebuilding after the war was money and resources not being used to maintain infrastructure, maintain public works, regulate the economy, defend from outside threats, and maintain the government.

2. Political Instability --- Most emperors did not die of natural causes, most emperors were murdered, or committed suicide, or died in battle, or died in a prison cell. Roman government was chalk full of power hungry psychopaths who were willing to murder their way to the top. Sometimes emperors could come and go quickly, with reigns lasting 2-3 years or less in the 3rd century.

Roman political history was rife with intrigue, assassinations, and coups occurring all the time. It was like Game of Thrones except instead of lasting 8 seasons it lasted 500 years.

3. The Army Became a Powerful Interest Group --- If you were a Roman emperor the army was a double edged sword. They were good in that they maintained peace and order in the empire and protected it from invaders. They were bad for you in that they could revolt and murder you, replacing you with someone they liked more. Even your own guard, the Praetorian Guards, couldn't be trusted as they could easily slit your throat in your sleep and declare someone else as emperor. To make sure the army was happy, you gave them big pay bonuses called donatives. Basically official bribes paid to keep the soldiers of the army loyal and happy. With each successive emperor the annual donative became bigger and bigger and thus a greater strain on the Imperial Treasury. If an emperor didn't pay up, he could be murdered by his own soldiers. Thus a lot of public money was paid just to keep the army happy so they didn't end up starting another civil war.

4. A Fucked up Economy --- Maintaining a large standing army to defend a large empire is expensive. Fighting civil wars is expensive. Rebuilding after civil wars is expensive. Constant regime change is expensive. Political intrigue is expensive. Eventually it got to the point where there just wasn't enough money to pay for all that. So emperors just minted more money, decreasing the silver content and minting more copper coins until eventually Roman money became worthless.

Today Roman money is still worthless. Go on ebay and find the cheapest Roman coins you can buy. Except for rarer collectibles Roman coins are still very plentiful and thus very cheap to collect. Worthless money made trade and commerce difficult, and thus the economy suffered. Not to mention constant bloody and destructive civil wars were damaging the economy. Political instability also damaged the economy.

5. Growing Disparity in Wealth --- Over time with civil wars and political instability the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. Eventually wealth became so concentrated in the upper class that the middle class disappeared entirely by the late 4th - 5th century. By then the average Roman was in a bad way. They had no opportunities and most Romans were forced to live as tenant farmers, essentially sharecroppers.

6. A Corrupt Tax System --- Meanwhile the wealthy became so powerful that they were able to wield that power so that they did not have to pay taxes. They could exploit loopholes, manipulate laws in their favor, or bribe their way out of paying. To try to make up the revenue, tax collectors attempted to squeeze the lower classes, which of course, didn't have any money. Thus by the late 4th - 5th century the empire was severely underfunded. This resulted in the degradation of infrastructure, public works, the army, the weakening of the government, and less investment in the economy and commerce.

7. Patronage --- By the 5th century the average Roman was out of opportunities and the middle class was gone entirely. More and more the lower class Roman was being squeezed for tax money, money which they didn't have. So in order to survive, Roman lower classes sold their services to a wealthy patron. The patron would house you and protect you and take care of your tax problems. If you were lucky and had special skills like a craftsman or artist you could make a good living under a patron. If not, you probably ended up a tenant farmer tied to the land of the patron, essentially a sharecropper, a serf, or a peasant. Due to this change in the socio economic system power was drawn away from the Imperial government and was redirected to the wealthy patrons. Thus the empire was becoming decentralized.

This would become the basis for medieval feudalism.

8. No One Wanted to Join the Army --- Why would you? You're dirt poor and have no opportunities. If you joined the army you may not even get the opportunity to defend the empire, as you're gonna get killed in a stupid civil war fighting a fellow Roman who is also dirt poor and has no opportunities. Your government is corrupt, your emperor is a snobbish entitled incompetent dipshit who was out of touch with reality, the tax man is trying to squeeze you for money you don't have, you have no rights, you've been forced to become a peasant to a proto-feudal lord, and it is clear the empire is dying. By the mid 5th century most Romans were like, "let it fucking die". As a result, the army suffered severe manpower shortages. Right at the time when Goths and Franks and Vandals and Huns are going to start swarming into the empire.

These to me are the primary reasons for the fall. Anyone have anything else to add in addition to this?

[decembermidnight]

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.” 

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.” 

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.” 

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

[twinterrors29]

Mandalorian Vampires AU

the Mandalorian warrior upper class is entirely composed of vampires who are turned on the occasion of their Verd'goten, making a small but elite pool of vampires the rulers of Mandalore

this small class' need for fresh blood that doesn't come purely from their own followers is a primary driving force for their constant expansionism

when Satine Kryze is Turned during her own Verd'goten a few years before the Clan Wars boil over, she is immediately horrified by how her peers kill all those they feed on during the celebration party

she knows she won't find any sympathy among those warriors themselves, so she turns to her little sister Bo-Katan, but instead of understanding and agreement with her horror, she only finds Bo-Katan's own excitement as she eagerly awaits her own turn at the table

driven by this desire to avoid unnecessary death, Satine founds the New Mandalorian pacifist movement on the principle that it's rather foolish to kill your food sources, which earns her a high level of support from among the common (unturned) people

but, in the same move, it mostly alienates her from the warrior (vampire) caste

they resent her for making them look bad, and spread all sorts of propaganda to try to smear her reputation in return

as the tensions continue to increase after the assassination of her father, Satine reaches out to the Republic, who send two Jedi to aid her in the case of any further assassination attempts

but while they're on Mandalore, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi accidentally impresses a group of Mandalorian warriors who witness his defiance and fighting spirit as he defends himself and his charge; they decide to Turn him rather than kill him when they manage to overwhelm him during the fight

(the famous Mandalorian adoption instinct is a cultural manifestation of the way the vampires turn those who catch their eyes)

the aftermath is spectacularly bloody

Satine manages to teach Obi-Wan to hide his Vampirism as they continue to run, assuaging the worst of Obi-Wan's internal crisis

this training and his own finely-honed discipline allows him to hide his condition for years after his eventual departure from the system, once they manage to get Satine settled on the throne following the popular election

this stalemate lasts for years, until the Separatist Crisis begins to boil over

when the Jedi arrives on Kamino, Jango Fett finds himself taken rather off-guard when the wet bedraggled Jedi responds to his fangy-threat display with a flash of his own fangs

so much so that he luckily forgets to mention the matter to Count Dooku before his untimely death

(a lightsaber is, after all, one of the most reliable ways to kill a Vampire; this is a huge part of the reason why Mandalorians consider Jedi to be their ancestral enemies)

on Kamino, Jango Fett and his Mandalorian trainers spent years telling the clones that they couldn't possibly be Turned, that they're not sentient enough to count as Mandalorians

but now there's a Jedi standing in front of Commander Cody, offering to Turn him and his siblings among the commander staff, if they so desired

and they very much do

Satine is surprised to start getting a slow but steady trickle of supporters from among the Vampire caste, choosing strange new pseudonyms and keeping their helmets on at all times presumably to conceal their former Clan alliances, but she welcomes the support against the growing discontent from the Death Watch nonetheless

[brrmian]

something that so many star wars fans somehow fail to realize is that george lucas always intended for the fall of the republic to be a completely unavoidable tragedy. that’s what makes it such brilliant storytelling.

placing the blame on just one party in the galaxy-wide farce that was the clone wars just isn’t interpreting the story the way its writer intended. neither is saying that all players should be held equally accountable. i don’t think the jedi were at fault for the state of the republic, and (despite the fact that he did horrible things) neither was anakin, on a galactic or governmental scale.

the real villain is palpatine, who shaped the government into a corrupt system by his own hand. the blame for turning a democratic republic into an authoritarian dictatorship (which it was long before it became the empire) under the noses of thousands of incredibly corrupt politicians must be placed entirely on him, and him alone.

by the end of the war, the jedi council recognized that they had already lost the ability to hold onto what it truly means to be a jedi. in their prime during the days of the old republic, the jedi knights were “the guardians of peace and justice.” they’re meant to as diplomats, peacekeepers, mediators, and public servants. when the clone wars began, they were essentially forced into being soldiers, generals, and quasi-politicians by palpatine and the senate. all of those things are antithetical to the jedi’s beliefs, but they had no other choice.

placing even the smallest bit of blame on the jedi for anything leading to the republic’s downfall—and their own—is not only unfair, it’s factually incorrect. the jedi order is a monastic organization. they have no say in the senate and no voting power. saying they’re corrupt, when in fact they were just as conned by palpatine as the rest of the galaxy, is victim-blaming and scapegoating.

palpatine shoved the jedi face first into fighting the war, and pretty much threw the clone army into their laps on top of that. the jedi had no say in the matter, and they certainly had no say in the war itself being started, either. because he controlled both sides, palpatine was able to make the CIS and the republic declare war on each other even though its citizens wanted the same outcome: political independence and survival. if not for palpatine’s schemes, the separatists would have been allowed to secede peacefully, the republic would have continued existing, and the war would have been completely avoided. but that was unfortunately not the case.

so in a galaxy thrown into an unavoidable war by its own secret dictator, with an army of sentient slaves suddenly at their command, and the risk of billions of deaths at the hands of the droid army imminently approaching, what do the galaxy’s official peacekeepers have no other choice but to do? be peacekeepers. why wouldn’t the sworn defenders of the galaxy be out on the battlefields trying to end the war? if they sat in the temple and did nothing, they simply wouldn’t be jedi.

the jedi were forced into a lose/lose situation. every religion and organization has faults, but that doesn’t place any blame on them for the catch-22 they were trapped into falling for. when the clone wars started—and the key point here is that it never should have in the first place—the jedi still needed to be jedi. unfortunately for them, that meant having positions of power not meant for them being thrust upon their shoulders. they couldn’t drop the burden, because that meant actively choosing not to save lives—but the other option, becoming soldiers despite the tenet of their beliefs that dictates they shouldn’t, was no better.

see what a cruel trap palpatine set? it’s like a fish being caught in a fisherman’s net. the net is spread out across the ocean floor, and the fish swim above it, not knowing that the trap is waiting to be drawn in around them from below. in the end, when the net starts to tighten, dragging them closer to the surface, they can’t swim fast enough to escape from the middle to the edge—and to safety—before the net is completely tied. it’s the cruelest kind of trap: the kind that gives you just the right amount of time to think you can escape while being sprung just quick enough to make actually escaping impossible.

in the end, the order actively chose to fight the war because they needed to. there was no other way to continue on as who they were. militarizing the order was not the right choice in a vacuum, but this was not that; this was a situation in which every galaxy-changing choice was the wrong one. the jedi knew they were making a decision that drew them farther away from their beliefs, but it was the lesser of an infinite list of evils, and they didn’t see the walls closing in on them until it was too late.

lucas himself has even said that the order was not corrupt or decaying from the inside, nor did they make a series of bad choices that ultimately led to their own destruction. they were always just trying to do the right thing—but unlike literally everything else in fiction, the jedi order’s death was completely unaffected by any of the choices they made. no matter what they did, they were always going to lose. the fall of the republic wasn’t caused by its defenders choosing what they saw as the least bad choice. it didn’t come down to any decisions, political or not, that the jedi council made with the limited tools that they had. it certainly didn’t come down to one emotionally unstable twenty-three-year-old’s slow descent into insanity, either. the republic and the jedi would still have been destroyed with or without anakin’s unhinged nervous breakdown.

anakin, just like the order, the republic, and the separatists, was taken advantage of by palpatine. even if a person’s choices are their own, they don’t exist in a vacuum.

anakin would have made better choices if not for palpatine, but he didn’t. the jedi order would have kept the peace if not for palpatine, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t. the republic, and democracy with it, would not have crumbled if not for palpatine. not the order, not anakin, not the separatists, and not the republic.

in the end, they were all just pawns in a decades-spanning plan, one that none of them saw coming until it was too late—and by then, it was already irreversible.

[dailyanarchistposts]

When the world ends, people come out of their apartments and meet their neighbors for the first time; they share food, stories, companionship. No one has to go to work or the laundromat; nobody remembers to check the mirror or scale or email account before leaving the house. Graffiti artists surge into the streets; strangers embrace, sobbing and laughing. Every moment possesses an immediacy formerly spread out across months. Burdens fall away, people confess secrets and grant forgiveness, the stars come out over New York City...and nine months later, a new generation is born.

CrimethInc. Collective

We’re going to die?

The Earth is not dying, it is being killed, and those who are killing it have names and addresses.[1] But us – me, you, even those who are killing the earth? We’re going to die.

In the worst case scenario, you drown, you starve, or you succumb to heat stroke. Not figuratively. You will drown, you will starve, you will succumb to heat stroke. Perhaps there’s the small chance that you will survive the mass migration to the last reaches of habitable land in and around the poles.

Perhaps.

But let’s be realistic here: In all likelihood, you’re going to die. A slow, horrible, excruciating death at that. We would like to say this is the future we’re hurtling towards at an ever-increasing rate. But it isn’t: it’s the present, the material, graspable present. Islands are sinking into the ocean. The poverty-stricken are freezing to death on the streets. People are burning to death in gigantic wildfires.

The collapse is not to be a single event. It’s a process, and it’s currently underway.

In the best case scenario, death is liberation. Perhaps the real “you” – your body, your consciousness, your soul, what have you – won’t die, per se: instead, the abstract “you” – your way of life, your social relationships under capitalism, your system of meaning that’s been drilled into your head since day one – will die.

Can’t we reform the system?

No. We can’t. The system is the problem, and the system runs deep. The problem isn’t just capitalism. It’s also the state, but it also isn’t just the state. It’s the ideology of consumption itself: that beings – plants, animals (including humans deemed to be *sub*human), fungi, even inanimate natural “resources” – are objects to be bought, sold, and eventually, consumed. This ideology is perhaps the deepest ideology we have. It permeates every form of knowledge: from science, to art, to politics. It seeps through our language (one must think how often we refer to feeling, living beings – ones with the capacity to suffer – as “it.”) It permeates our relationships. It is the very basis of our societies, if it cannot be deemed our “society” itself – the group of capital-h Humans deemed to be worthy enough to be circumscribed by the abstract Community, that constructs itself in opposition to literally everything else.

Your favorite pet politician isn’t immune to this. Not Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, not Bernie Sanders, not Jill Stein. Not the Democratic Socialists, not the Green Party, not the CPUSA, and not anyone else, either.

Perhaps their hearts are in the right place – but sadly, that isn’t enough.

To quote the amazing piece Anarchy Works by Peter Gelderloos:

Some people oppose capitalism on environmental grounds, but think some sort of state is necessary to prevent ecocide. But the state is itself a tool for the exploitation of nature. Socialist states such as the Soviet Union and People’s Republic of China have been among the most ecocidal regimes imaginable. That these two societies never escaped the dynamics of capitalism is itself a feature of the state structure — it necessitates hierarchical, exploitative economic relationships of control and command, and once you start playing that game nothing beats capitalism.

What about nonviolence?

Concerning nonviolence: it is criminal to teach a man not to defend himself when he is the constant victim of brutal attacks.

Malcolm X

The struggle against ecocide was never nonviolent, and it never will be, because it cannot be. That’s because ecocide is violence: violence against me and you, against animals (wild and domestic,) against the trees and the grass and the water and the mountains.

Climate insurrection is self-defense.

Strict adherence to nonviolence – that is, the rejection of violence – is complicity in the face of ecological destruction. It is not “offensive,” it is not “rebellion,” and it’s not a “strike” at climate change.

Many of us do not have the privilege of being nonviolent – namely, those of us who already marginalized. We will be the first to go. We’re the rural farm workers and their families being sprayed with pesticides. We’re the houseless freezing to death in polar vortices. We’re the indigenous peoples whose homes are being swallowed by the sea. We’re the poor who will not have the capital necessary to complete the long trek north to the last remaining habitable lands.

If we aren’t violent – if we don’t rebel against the system that oppresses us – we will be crushed. Don’t be complicit in our death, in your death.

What’s climate insurrection?

Perhaps the only hope me or you have. It’s destroying that which destroys us — by any means possible.

Wouldn’t that hurt the movement?

No. A better question would be: what has “nonviolent” protest won us in the long run? The answer: absolutely nothing. Many supposedly “nonviolent” movements, such as the Civil Rights Movement, were incredibly violent. There were hundreds of riots throughout the United States, and of course, the existence of armed paramilitary groups such as the Black Panthers, or the Brown Berets. One could make the argument that this narrative of nonviolence is pushed by the very people whose power would be threatened by violence, because violence means (perhaps immediate) change. Hence: why those in the US celebrate Martin Luther King Day, a federally recognized holiday; but not Malcolm X Day.

Even the most-oft example of nonviolent resistance, the Indian independence movement, was not so. Bhagat Singh, who after his execution became a folk hero of the cause, was inspired by French anarchist Auguste Vaillant to bomb the British Raj’s Central Legislative Assembly. Less than a year before, he had assassinated a British police officer in retaliation for the death of the nationalist leader Lala Lajpat Rai.

Wouldn’t it be counterproductive?

Counterproductive to what? Getting meaningless reforms passed? Getting empty pyrrhic victories in the legal circuit? Performing impotent marches through major cities that don’t achieve anything other than receiving lukewarm press from second-rate newspapers?

Ask the battery hen liberated from cramped cages by animal activists, or the old-growth forest protected indefinitely by logging saboteurs (and all the animals who call those forest home): is direct action productive?

Anarchist action — patient, hidden, tenacious, involving individuals, eating away at institutions like a worm eats away at fruit, as termites undermine majestic trees — such action does not lend itself to the theatrical effects of those who wish to draw attention to themselves.

Anonymous (in Desert)

To quote the great illusionist Georges Méliès, “I must say, to my great regret, the cheapest tricks have the greatest impact.”

If insurrection is so great, how come people aren’t doing it now?

They are. You just haven’t heard of it because the media is smart enough to hide it. Hearing about the heroic stories of those who fight back would be too dangerous for most to hear – it runs the risk of radicalizing them. Movements like the Animal and Earth Liberation Fronts, have been waging war against ecocide since the 1970s.

I don’t want to go to prison.

We dream of a world without prisons.

I’m scared.

We’re scared too, friend. We should be, but we should be strong, too.

What can we do?

We’ll let the great animal activist Keith Mann speak for us.

Labs raided, locks glued, products spiked, depots ransacked, windows smashed, construction halted, mink set free, fences torn down, cabs burnt out, offices in flames, car tires slashed, cages emptied, phone lines severed, slogans daubed, muck spread, damage done, electrics cut, site flooded, hunt dogs stolen, fur coats slashed, buildings destroyed, foxes freed, kennels attacked, businesses burgled, uproar, anger, outrage, balaclava clad thugs.

What if I don’t have the ability to fight?

You do, even if you can’t physically. Despite the tone of this letter, we aren’t totally opposed to above-ground action. In fact, in some cases, we think it’s necessary.

Groups like the Earth Liberation Prisoners Support Group and the Animal Liberation Front Supporters Group are active in representing and advocating for operatives. As Sinn Féin, the Irish political party once associated with the militant IRA has been described:

Both Sinn Féin and the IRA play different but converging roles in the war of national liberation. The Irish Republican Army wages an armed campaign... Sinn Féin maintains the propaganda war and is the public and political voice of the movement.

What happens next?

We don’t know. But with any luck, we’ve laid out our options.

[1] A faumous quote from Utah Philips

[lamarseillasie]

"Nothing out of the ordinary has happened here, and it is to be hoped that the evil-doers will not succeed in their maneuvers this time. Panic terror is gripping many minds, and the crowds at the bakers' are considerable. Marat's death will probably be useful to the Republic because of the circumstances surrounding it. It's a cy-devant from Caen, deliberately sent by Barbaroux and other scoundrels, addressed first to a member of the right wing in Paris, that fanatic Duperrey who twice drew the saber in the Assembly and repeatedly threatened Marat. We have indicted him as an accomplice to the assassination. You will see the details of this affair in the newspapers, and it will not be difficult for you to judge the men we were dealing with. The Minister of the Interior had, it seems, been singled out for the dagger of this monstrous woman who brought Marat down under her blows; Danton and Maximilien are still threatened; one remarkable thing is the means this infernal female used to gain access to our colleague's home. While Marat was being painted as a monster, in such a terrible way that the whole of France was fooled into believing that there was no cannibal comparable to that citizen, that woman nevertheless begged for his commiseration by writing to him: "It's enough to be unhappy to be heard". This circumstance is well suited to demaratizing Marat and opening the eyes of those who see us as bloodthirsty men. You should know that Marat lived like a Spartan and gave everything he had to those who came to him. On several occasions he said to me and my colleagues: "I can no longer satisfy the wretched crowd that comes to me, I will send some of them to you", and he did so on many times. Judge our political situation, a situation brought about by slander. Ardent but unenlightened patriots are currently agreeing with the conspirators to Pantheonize Marat. Such are the circumstances, that this proposal may eternalize the calumnies, that the hatred which seems to abandon a corpse will attach itself to Marat in the grave, and that the system of the enemies of liberty will resume with greater force than if our colleague were still among us. The most astute observer must be astonished that the most terrible weapon of the enemies of liberty is slander, and must groan at the ignorance and credulity of a people who constantly disregard it. A slander, no matter how absurd, cannot be erased, and Paris, which sees its most ardent defenders slaughtered and is content to shed tears over their graves, will still have to defend itself for centuries to come against its detractors, while Evreux, Caen, Lyon and Marseille will enjoy an almost immortal glory, because these cities will have the most skilful of conspirators and the most wicked of men as their defenders."

Augustin Robespierre in a letter to Antoine-Joseph Buissart, July 15th, 1793. From Maximilien et Augustin Robespierre, Correspondance recueillie et publiée par M. Georges Michon [p. 174-175].

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Star Wars politics are funny because they’re fundamentally grim in a way, despite being built on hope. I find that, well, utopians? I suppose, have trouble with it. There’s no peace promised, no ending, no resolution. only an individual duty of care. One that will exist as long as sentience exists. The fight will never actually end. In the prequels you have your democrats and your separatists and your imperials, but there’s no fourth option in the narrative, there’s no perfect system just lurking out of reach. There’s just them. There’s just us. Like, Padme isn’t politically naive, she spends the whole first movie getting intimately acquainted with the failings of the republic, but she’s still fighting for it. Her politics are lucas’s politics, democracy is the only hope simply because it’s the only option offered that’s supposed to offer individual agency to participate in it, and only people can save people, by caring enough to do so, but you can’t control how or whether people participate. They might exploit it, they might destroy it, they might passively watch as it slips away because they assumed someone else would defend it. They will all lose in the end, like Dooku did, like the separatists did, like the imperials did, because even if they won for a while, they don’t care about other people so they eat their own, because even if you are a predator, there’s always a bigger fish. ““but you said that the biggest problem in the galaxy is that people don’t help each other”“ when your thesis is the individual responsibility of every person to the interconnected universe they live in, then the dereliction of that duty is the cause of societal collapse and darkness. But there’s hope if you have faith in people, I guess.

[sansculottides]

"Workers, do not be deceived: it is the great struggle: parasitism and labor, exploitation and production are at death-grips. If you are sick or vegetating in ignorance and squatting in the muck; if you want your children to be men gaining the reward of their labor, not a sort of animal trained for the workshop and for war, fertilizing with its sweat the fortune of an exploiter, or pouring out its blood for a despot; if you want the daughters whom you cannot bring up and watch over as you would, to be no longer instruments of pleasure in the arms of the aristocracy of wealth; if you want debauch and poverty no longer to drive men to the police and women to prostitution; if, finally, you desire the reign of justice, workers, be intelligent, arise! And let your stout hands fling beneath your feet the foul reaction! ...Long live the Republic! Long live the Commune!"

--Statement of the Central Committee of the National Guard of the Paris commune on April 5, 1871.

The National Guard of the Commune was not the same as the old government's army that defended bourgeois interest; the National Guard of the Commune consisted of the workingmen of Paris. Their officers and Central Committee were democratically elected and subject to recall if they lost the confidence of the people.

The Paris Commune started today, March 18, in 1871. At the time the working people of Paris were driven to poverty and starvation by the war with Prussia. On this day in 1871 the people of Paris--especially women and children--chased out the bourgeois government, who ran away pitifully with their tails between their legs to Versailles, leaving the city to the control of its workers. The workers of Paris established their own government that sought not to merely address urgent and base concerns such as hunger, rent, and unemployment, but also to found a kinder society by radicalizing institutions such as education or the concept of the family. It was the first attempt at a workers' state in history.

The Commune lasted for only 72 days, when the French government violently and ruthlessly crushed it. They brutally massacred the workers in the event that is known as Bloody Week. Historian Donny Gluckstein wrote: "Bloody Week was a graphic example of a capitalist state stripped to its bare essentials--'armed bodies of men'--exterminating a threat to the system of domination and exploitation." Paris suffered a labor shortage after this massacre.

We remember the Paris Commune, its principles, and its battle. Even today we sing the Internationale, a product of that relentless hopeful spirit of the Commune and its people who dared to believe a kinder world was possible--if only we fight for it.

Picture is the Communards Wall at the Père Lachaise Cemetery, where workers of the Commune were killed by bourgeois forces. People still leave flowers every year.

[stargirl-writes]

[chapter one] the secret history of anakin skywalker

captured

pairing : assassin! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.8k

next

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sypnosis

you have only known one truth about this war, the republic and the seperatists are two sides of the same coin. but now, your master count dooku has disposed of you after your consequent failures. his betrayal fueled your thirst for revenge. and in the cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself with an arrangement with the enemy. general anakin skywalker is willing to do what it takes for the republic to win, even if it meant dealing with you, his nemesis.

chapter summary

your mission to secure umbara has failed. your master, count dooku would not have asked of anyone but you to deliver success. but as you stand amongst the pile of bodies of umbaran soldiers, the horror of your failure washes over you. and in the hopelessness of events, a jedi appears amidst the ashes of your city. one that did not hesitate to kill the jedi general krell despite his jedi order's honor.

tags : enemies-to-lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, mystery, espionage.

warnings : mentions of ptsd, mentions of abuse, war, mentions of a panic attack.

notes: centers around the same time of the clone wars season 4 episode 15

also, thank you all lovely people who have supported my first anakin fic here 😭, i'm very grateful for every interaction! so thank you for taking interest in this other thingy i have in the works. so without further ado, i hope you like it ! 🪽

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

Your plan has failed.

You stood over the tower overlooking the ashes left in the Umbaran capital city. The Republic has won. Your plan failed.

Your breath becomes uneven, the terror lodging in your throat as the consequence of this failure starts to dawn.

Your master, Count Dooku, will not take this failure lightly. Because he swore that if you provide anything other than success, then you will be dealt with the price for it. And now you stand in horror at the sight: the smoke of what was supposed to be your defense taunted you of your imminent future.

Umbara was a crucial route to supply the Confederacy of Independent Systems. A recent attack by the Republic has made Count Dooku send you, his second. Many systems have been starving from the tight supply lines that the Alliance still held and losing Umbara would send millions into more famine.

Your hand twitches. A reaction that fails to conceal your trauma. Your body, already bracing itself for the phantom pain that was yet to be inflicted.

You blink.

Even from atop this tower, you could make out the scattered Umbaran soldiers that lay lifeless, covered in their own blood. You try to fight the guilt pushing up your heart, remembering that Umbaran people have volunteered to defend their land when you insisted that droids are more expendable than lives.

The mission was simple; to defend. Count Dooku wouldn't have asked anyone but you. You were the only one he trusted to deliver success, his second, his apprentice.

He had taken you in when Republic forces made the sky fall on your home planet of Hapes. Your resentment for the Republic began there: from witnessing your home being burned down. Then, Dooku taught you of the Republic's hypocrisy. How they are so deluded by their righteousness that they can excuse leading with violence and bloodshed in the name of maintaining peace.

He taught you how to defend yourself. He was the one that made you realize that the Republic is caters only to the people above ground. Even the capital planet of Coruscant serves as a cruel reminder of how the Republic treats the undergrounds.

Dooku took you in. And you feel indebted to his teachings. Under his care, you became familiar with his unrelenting methods. Which meant leading with ruthless, sometimes. 'What matters is the intention' He used to say. He told you that only a few can wield a saber and fight with the right intention. It made sense, then. Someone has to fight for those who cannot. And you quickly learnt that all of it would be justified because what you sacrificed yourself for was to serve a bigger purpose.

It didn't really erase the discomfort when your Master, the source of your fire, be so sardonic when winning a fight. And you still find yourself holding your breath, sometimes, when you have to watch him make decisions you wouldn't really find yourself agreeing to.

But, this was a war and he was doing it for the Alliance. You had to adapt. Dooku was once a Jedi, so he had to have known something you didn't. Saw something you didn't understand fully. He told you how the Jedi Council had lost their way when they got involved in politics. Your younger mind was more malleable in believing everything your master said. He told you many things...

Once he recognized your ability to channel the force, He handed you a lightsaber and directed you at the right targets, making you his most effective weapon.

You allowed it all because it was for the cause...

And Dooku was fierce in teaching you the price of failure. 'Many will suffer for your incompetence' he used to say before striking you down with his power, making you writhe in pain that felt like being on the brink of death but never having the release.

It was to teach you a lesson, you once believed...

Your faith has crippled since then.

Your heart was telling you it was wrong. A Master should never have to go to such extreme methods to teach you a lesson. But then again, how else can he express the severity of the consequences of your actions? There are so many people that you have allowed to get hurt. You deserve an equal measure of pain.

You have grown to know so many Allied leaders, like Mina Bonteri, who only ever swore allegiance to the cause in hopes of salvation of their people. They weren't evil. They only ever demanded a change in the Republic, and now they are branded as Seperatists.

That was what kept you from leaving. Because you have learnt that the Republic and the Alliance were two sides of the same coin; just as corrupt, just as cruel. The war will rage on until one succeeds the other. And either side seems to have been in the war enough to realize the blood being spilled. Somebody just have to do something so it all ends. You just aren't sure if you can manage that yet. Because now as you stand over the grave of the people you failed to defend, you realize that you aren't anywhere ready. People, not droids. People that fought to the end, believing in something they were willing to die for. And soon, you will have to face your Master's disappointment.

You didn't know what felt heavier.

A commando droid appears from behind. "A call from Count Dooku, General" It opens up its hand to reveal the holocommunication device. Your blood runs cold. You feel your heart thump and thwack so rapidly, you thought it was impossible it isn't bursting out of your chest. You swallowed your fear, knowing you can't delay this call. You placed the holocommunicator down and pressed it.

Count Dooku appears in front of you and you straightened your back, masking your expression. You can feel his gaze burn on your skin as he takes a moment to apprehend you. You sense his frustration despite the distance. Your fingers twitches involuntarily.

"Have I fallen short to remind you the consequence if you'd lose Umbara, my student?" His voice remained in that unnerving monotonous tone you despised.

"No, Master." You answered, your nails digging through the skin of your palms.

Dooku doesn't blink; you grow horrified. Be angry, be disappointed, show me something, anything. His composed expression was much more terrifying.

"And you thought it more important to leave the task to the Jedi General Krell?" Dooku says through gritted teeth.

"I had to find a way to reduce our losses," You defend your actions. Conspiring with General Krell had been your idea. The rogue Jedi had seemed like the most efficient way to poison the enemy. Having someone crippling the system from the inside had proved itself effective for you then. At the beginning, General Krell had met his end of the deal. You managed to tip the scales of battle, enough to let Umbaran soldiers recuperate before engaging in another battle.

"Krell is dead. Your tactic is comprimised." Dooku announces.

You felt your heart skip a beat.

Somehow, you have always believed the Jedi would never sacrifice their honor in exchange for a win. When Krell went missing, you thought maybe they only had him captured, waiting for a jurisdiction by their holy Republic. Exsanguining him sounded extreme. Perhaps having a member of the Jedi turn against them made the Council make an example out of him.

"You have failed me for the last time."

Your eyes widens at the finality of your Master's words. Before you could protest, you felt the force constrict around your throat, lifting you off the ground and cutting the air from your lungs.

"Kill her." Dooku orders the commando droid. And you felt your heart sink.  The holocommunication dies. And you slump to the floor.

Adrenaline surges through you, you draw up your lightsaber, distraught, shocked, as the betrayal seeps. You swing your weapon through the commando droid and it falls down your feet. Your master... ordered for your death. Once you no longer served purpose to him, he abandoned you.

He wouldn't even do it himself.

You started panting, and you held on to the control board to support your weight— tears were flooding your vision. Your knees buckles and you stumble backwards. Your body, it betrays— it trembles, it becomes paralyzed by the fear. Your mind is no longer in control, no matter how much you will for the hyperventilation to stop.

Then you hear the elevator click. You turn to your heel and find the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker standing with his lightsaber drawn. Krell is dead. Anakin Skywalker was here. You put two and two together. It was not the first time you encountered the General, he always led with his men at the frontlines. And he'd always find a way to you.

You'd meet his agile attacks to stand your ground. Despite the short amount of time, Dooku was rigorous in training you. And it paid off when you'd barely escape Anakin Skywalker. You heard the Jedi think it was dishonorable to flee from a fight, but you knew you'd serve your cause better alive than dead.

He probably ordered Krell's death. Which would be forbidden for his Jedi Code. And before you could wrap around the thought,  he was already stepping forward. Moving as if demanding your attention. If he is able to throw away his honor, then he's here to kill you too.

His eyes bore into yours— he looked like he was sizing you up. "Umbara is under the Republic's protection now, you've no choice but to surrender, Wraith" Anakin calls you by the title conducted to you by your enemies, flicking his chin to move hair away from his sight.

The Wraith. The shadow. Always lurking, but never significant enough to be acknowledged as the actual threat. The corner of his lips curled into a cajoling grin "Or run away, I seem to recall you seem to excel in that"

Your breaths leave vapor as your felt your grief transform into something more ravenous. And without hesitating, you charged forward. Anakin instinctively blocks your offense, his expression of bickering quickly replaced by seriousness. This... this was familiar. You swung relentlessly, and full of weight. Skywalker receives your attacks and finds his way around it.

The initial adrenaline depleted after Skywalker received and received, your muscles atrophy, it was breaking dawn and you haven't had a moment of sleep. Then, in a moment you were recovering from the sloppy emotion-drawn attack, He had deflected, taking offense with forceful strikes and proximity. You struggle to regain footing. The fact that he had been using his size didn't help you. Because you relied on your agility, not endurance.

In a swift movement, Anakin fiends a strike and uses his knuckle to bend your wrist, making you lose your lightsaber to the ground. You look up to the Jedi in disbelief. His torso was pressing on your chest as held up both your wrists over your head with his bionic hand. Fierce and unyielding.

His chest rises and falls, and the ghost of his breath warmed the skin on your forehead.

"It's over." He says, his grip tightening.

You saw the faint glisten of triumph in his eyes before he steps backward and clasps your wrists behind your back and cuffing them.

You had thought your Master's betrayal could be the worst thing you could face. But now, captured by this Jedi, you knew a lifetime rotting in Coruscant is... unimaginable.

Your mind caved in.

Somehow, death seemed like kindness now.

© to @cafekitsune for the borders !

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I've said all of this stuff already but I'm pissed rn and it's therapeutic to type it out:

Maul's presence on Mandalore in TCW s7 is NOT a priority. The political situation on Mandalore, while shitty, has been the same for the civilian population since s5, with or without Maul there. Things can wait a bit.

Sure, capturing Maul is possibly time sensitive (since they don't know how long he'll be on-planet), but taking back Mandalore isn't. If Maul leaves before they show up the planet is just as easy to take. Bo-Katan is using his presence as an incentive because she doesn't have the necessary forces to win, whether or not he's there. The situation is only urgent for her because if Maul leaves then the Republic has no reason to help her cause. The situation is not urgent for Mandalore because, again, it's been the same for basically a year - Maul's presence has little impact on the people, his forces are the problem and they have never left.

The Republic didn't "refuse" to help after s5, they just had no more reason to. Almec is still legitimately Prime Minister (accepted by the people) and Mandalore is an independent sovereign system that has spent actual years refusing outside interference. The second Maul bails "helping" goes back to being called "invading".

Capturing Maul is also not even a priority to the Republic (Republic =/= Jedi Order) because Palpatine ordered the Jedi to stop bothering with him in s5. Officially Maul is 'just' a crime lord, and he's not allied with the Separatists or even attacking the Republic. It's well established in TCW that the Jedi don't have the manpower to deal with the underworld anymore. What's the point of dismantling black markets and crime rings if the planet gets bombed into oblivion the next day? Priorities.

The Jedi can't do what they want with Republic resources. As awful as it is, the Clones belong to the Republic. The Jedi can be ordered to pull out of a situation whenever the Senate pleases. (see above)

Capturing Maul (what would be the Jedi's goal going to Mandalore) would really best be accomplished somewhere he doesn't have all his forces backing him up (again, confronting there is for Bo-Katan's benefit because her own goal isn't just to capture Maul but to beat his forces which she wants the Republic to do for her)

The Battle of Coruscant is ABSOLUTELY a pivotal point in the war and the main priority. The second the Separatists show up above the Republic's central seat of power? The political and military capital? The most densely populated planet in the Galaxy? It's time to drop literally everything else. The Senate is there. The Temple is there. A LOT of their troops are stationed there. There are hundreds of thousands of billions of people living there. Even pulling forces out of allied worlds to go help Coruscant wouldn't be a dick move, just a desperate one - nevermind waiting to send troops to a neutral-on-a-good-day-and-more-or-less-enemy-the-rest-of-the-time world.

The Jedi don't even refuse to help.

They don't.

Why am I typing all of this to defend their refusal to help? They don't refuse to help.

Obi-Wan wants to take a hot minute to THINK ABOUT the implications of going guns blazing into neutral sovereign territory to confront a dude who has an extremely personal vendetta against him and is known to set traps of precisely this kind. (And Obi-Wan is right to consider these things because HEY! IT IS A TRAP! MAUL SLAUGHTERS A BUNCH OF CLONES AS A BREADCRUMBS TRAIL TO LEAD SOMEONE HE HOPES TO BE OBI-WAN INTO A TRAP!)

Obi-Wan also answers to the rest of Council, just like every other Council member. Bo-Katan gets pissy that he's not giving an answer right that instant because SHE needs Maul to still be there, but thinking things through is literally Obi-Wan's job description.

And after all this, after the attack on Coruscant and the political considerations, THE JEDI DON'T EVEN REFUSE TO HELP.

The Mandalorian traditionalists' favorite pastime is attempting to kill Jedi. Not too long ago, Bo was right there when Pre was trying to kill Obi-Wan. And then trying to kill Ahsoka. And then allying with the Sith (who notoriously want to kill all the Jedi) on two separate occasions (Dooku and Maul). The Mandos PRIDE THEMSELVES on hating the Jedi. There has never been in canon an instance of a Prequels-era Mando warrior helping a Jedi out for altruistic motives.

Bo-Katan is appealing to the Order's decency (saying that her people suffer etc etc) but she doesn't even have the honesty to couch it as a real, desperate plea for help. Instead she presents the situation as transactional, as though she was bringing anything concrete onto the table. If the Republic comes in, takes Mandalore for her and captures Maul, she has contributed to the effort how, exactly? What has she given the Republic? How many people fight for her is left pretty vague but we really don't see that many of them. Plus it's her planet. Fighting for it isn't her giving the Republic anything, it's still her helping herself. And yet she gets incredibly pissed when Obi-Wan takes time to examine the 'deal.'

In light of the two previous arguments, the Jedi would in fact have been perfectly justified in telling Bo to eat some freaking humble pie.

THE JEDI. DON'T REFUSE. TO HELP.

Sure it's Obi-Wan specifically who okays the operation, before the rest of the Council can make a decision, but do they order the troops to pull out afterwards? Nope. Do they sanction him? Nope.

They do help.

They really shouldn't have let Bo-Katan in charge but hey, they get all massacred after that and the Republic's backing is literally what gives Bo-Katan legitimacy in the eyes of many clans for decades after (see the Protectors' position in Rebels. Her legitimacy stems from SATINE'S and the Republic apparently backing her up as Satine's heir. It's not from kicking Maul out.)

(I love Bo-Katan as a character but as a person she's. huh. a lot. She changed from outright villain to morally gray character because the villains got a lot worse not bc she got better lmo)

So the Jedi absolutely did help afgfdsdfgfdsdfd why are people getting pissy about Obi-Wan - who has a complicated history with Mandalore that involves a loved one getting murdered in front of his eyes by Maul - hesitating to help

They really didn't refuse to help.

They really had every reason to

It would have been perfectly reasonable in fact

Yeah they have a mandate to protect innocent people but there were a lot more innocent people on Coruscant

Innocent people who did want their help instead of yelling GTFO every time they showed up

Because the Mando civilians sure didn't want them there

Oh and also? They didn't refuse to help

[contemplatingoutlander]

An Australian lawyer's view of Trump being the front runner for the GOP presidential nomination

As an Australian living in a constitutional democracy and a defence lawyer I’m finding the whole Trump saga extremely disturbing. Disturbing that an individual who has attacked democratic norms and values, sneered at the jurisdiction of the courts and justice system and attempted to destroy any or all of the tenets of democracy, freedom for minorities and common decency is the front runner for the Republican nomination for president and if successful could have all federal convictions and charges brought against him expunged or otherwise dismissed. Had Trump been subject to Australian law he wouldn’t be a contender for any political position, he’d have challenges being appointed a dog catcher because no political party in Australia would have either defended or sanctioned his behaviour and he would have most certainly been expelled from every political party, no matter how conservative or left leaning. The Republican parties blind support of Trump that could land him back in the White House is a real and present danger not just to America but to the free world and risks American alliances carefully developed and nurtured over decades since the Second World War. Careful consideration should be taken when appointing a person to such power over national security, nuclear arms and a judicial system and diplomatic network which he has already demonstrated a willingness to weaponise in his own interest.* --Richard Busuttil, Australia, commenting on a NY Times opinion column

Seen through the eyes of this Australian lawyer, the Republican Party's decision to keep backing the traitorous Trump seems not only incredibly corrupt, but foolhardy and frightening.

Trump's comeback would not be possible if a majority of prominent Republicans had denounced him--and preferably impeached him after his attempted coup.

Clearly, Trump's behavior would not have been tolerated by many people in Australia or by many people in other affluent constitutional democracies. (Even Brazil has moved faster to prosecute Bolsonaro for spreading false information about the Brazilian election system.)

The character of the American people who vote for Trump must also be in question by the people in many constitutional democracies around the world.

If the U.S. reelects Trump, America will no longer be considered a beacon for freedom and democracy, nor the leader (or even a leader) of "the free world."

We as a nation will be in freefall, moving rapidly towards autocracy and neofascism.

And the world outside the U.S. will know it, years before it finally dawns on many Americans that by voting for Trump, they helped to destroy our democratic republic.

______________ *This quote was divided into paragraphs to increase readability.

[whencyclopedia]

Roman Imperial Cult

The Roman imperial cult was the practice of venerating Roman emperors and their families as having divine attributes, honoring their contributions to the spread of Roman religion and culture. It was instituted by the first Roman emperor Augustus (r. 27 BCE to 14 CE) in his reforms and transformation of the Roman Republic to the Roman Empire.

Divine Kingship & Hero Cults

Ancient cities had foundation myths, claiming that a god or goddess or the son of a god or goddess provided law codes that dictated proper religious rituals, social behavior, and gender roles. Passed down through the generations, the will of the gods was carried out by the governing authorities. Thus, the concept of divine kingship validated their rule.

Greece also had hero cults. The heroes of Greek mythology were the offspring of a god or goddess or the result of sexual intercourse between humans and the divine. A prime example was Herakles/Hercules. Heroes were rewarded for their great deeds by being among the gods after death, or at least in the higher realms of the Elysian Fields in Hades. The concept was described as apotheosis ("deification"); the hero would reach the levels of the divine and would be worthy of worship and honor. There were dozens of temples and shrines for heroes.

The patron/client system (how things got done) provided the network for relationships for the common good, including relationships between humans and the divine. The word "patron" came from the Latin "defender". The upper classes (aristocrats) offered benefits to the lower-class poor, distributing food during religious festivals. The lower classes reciprocated through their labor, agricultural products, and trades. The tombs of the heroes became the object of pilgrimage, where people petitioned them as patron gods, mediators between the Olympians and the community for special benefits and protection.

Continue reading...

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Donald Trump was NOT convicted by Joe Biden, he was NOT convicted by the Judge, he was NOT convicted by the District Attorney.  Donald Trump was convicted by a jury of his peers. A jury, I should note, that Trump was personally “very much involved” in picking per his lawyer Todd Blanche on CNN Thursday night. And that conviction happened in the state where Trump committed his crimes after a full trial that lasted more than a month where Trump was represented by a team of very experienced lawyers who presented his best defense. That is how our Constitution and criminal justice system works. There were no surprises here. As I predicted in my article before the trial began, “Trump is going to be a Convicted Felon by June." That was based on my experience as a trial lawyer and after reviewing the evidence the prosecutors had laid out in their pleadings. Common sense said that the only reason Trump paid Stormy Daniels “hush money” ten years after their affair —but just a week before the 2016 election—was to defraud voters of the truth. To that end, Trump falsified business records to conceal his illegal scheme. The jury saw the facts as they were, hence Trump was found guilty on all 34 counts and is now a CONVICTED FELON.

Yet now we see Trump and MAGA reject the jury verdict by attacking it as “rigged,” a “sham,” etc. MAGA House Speaker Mike Johnson called the verdict, “the weaponization of our justice system.”  Marco Rubio weighed in on Twitter, writing, “The verdict in New York is a complete travesty that makes a mockery of our system of justice.”  The always awful MAGA Rep. Elise Stefanik, posted, “Today’s verdict shows how corrupt, rigged, and unAmerican the weaponized justice system has become under Joe Biden and Democrats.”  Spineless Tim Scott said on CNN Thursday night, “This was certainly a hoax, a sham” with the even worse Ted Cruz stating, “This entire trial has been a sham, and it is nothing more than political persecution.” And the list goes on and on. But this is no surprise, it’s part of MAGA telling us they reject our Constitution and the foundations of our democratic Republic. After all, Trump and MAGA rejected the 2020 election results because Trump lost. They rejected the criminal justice system when they smeared the indictments against Trump as being a sham. And now they publicly reject our jury system, which is one of the cornerstones of the US Constitution as laid out in the Sixth Amendment.

The question that must be asked is given Trump and MAGA reject our elections, our criminal justice system, the rule of law and our Constitution, what exactly do they support?! The answer is simple: Convicted Felon Trump. That’s it. [...] Let me repeat what I’ve been writing and saying for months: Don’t count on the courts, the prosecutors or a jury to save us from Donald Trump. We are the only ones who can do that by coming out in huge numbers to defeat him this November. This may sound jarring but it’s the truth: MAGA is a cancer. If allowed to metastasis, it will kill our democratic Republic that so many sacrificed so much to defend. The good news though is that the cure to MAGA cancer is right in front of us. All it takes is voting in big numbers this November.

The butthurt MAGAs crying and whining about Convicted Felon Donald Trump being convicted on 34 charges for business records falsification is more proof that the extremist anti-American MAGA cult needs to be crushed at all costs.

See Also:

Vox: Why the ludicrous Republican response to Trump’s conviction matters

MMFA: MAGA media rage in response to Trump's 34 guilty verdicts

RWW: MAGA Martyrdom Machine Portrays Felon Trump as Victim, Vows Revenge

HuffPost: Right-Wingers Are Already Promising Vengeance After The Trump Verdict

Daily Kos: Republicans choose MAGA lunacy over the law after Trump's conviction

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

Revenge is the safe space is such a ridiculous take that I have to get it out of my system or I will go insane.

Revenge is a ship whose captain is utterly useless. He gets the ship beached because he forgets someone should be steering it. He loses the hostages AND gets himself caught by the natives who only let him go because they realize he poses no threat (which is super telling given their history with white colonizers). In the Republic he immediately gets himself in trouble with Jackie and it's only Blackbeard's reputation that saves him. He walks straight into Geraldo's trap and almost gets killed, only to be rescued by Edward again. He is too much into Ed and too fucking polite to question Jack's motives until it's way too late, thus putting all of his crew in harm's way.

Revenge is a ship whose captain inspires zero confidence in his crew. They all know he's terrible at being a pirate and they keep saying he will probably get them all killed. He admits he has no idea what to do, which can't be great for the crew's morale - and on a ship the crew's willingness to carry out orders without hesitation may be a matter of life and death. He fucking treats his whims and fancies as more important than the crew's well-being and gets annoyed when the Swede gets scurvy after wasting all their oranges on a cake. And he doesn't even see it was his mistake.

And it's not even like the crew get space to be themselves in return either. Stede is great at talking about how they can be themselves on the Revenge, but in reality, they either get scolded when they don't do what he would like them to do or he doesn't notice their feelings at all because he's too preoccupied with his own bullshit. He tells them to enjoy their vacation however they like and then immediately scolds Wee John and the Swede for rough and tumbling because it's not how he would like them to behave. He doesn't notice Lucius is upset after being locked by Jim because he's too annoyed at not having his scribe to take down his musings. He doesn't notice how upset Jim is about their trip to St. Augustine because he's too excited about treasure hunting with Edward.

So let me ask: who exactly is safe on the Revenge? For all his terrible management style, Izzy would at least make sure the ship was stocked properly and had all stations manned at all times. I would 100% prefer Izzy to be my captain than Stede because Izzy would at least keep me as safe as it's possible for a pirate to be - and all he really wanted in return was discipline which is the most basic thing on a properly run ship.

So yeah, Izzy needs to change and learn to be more accepting, but Stede needs to learn EVERYTHING, from being a sailor to fucking noticing his crew's mood.

On a more personal note: I'm truly perplexed how many people think safe space simply means a space where one can talk about their feelings without being judged. It is that, sure, but that is step two. Step one is making sure the space is safe from the outsiders. It's taking up arms and carving this place out in a hostile world and then standing one's ground and defending it. Izzy stopped on step one and refuses to go any further. But Stede would like to have step two without ever taking step one and that’s not how the world works.