#spectre-week 2024

[spectre-week]

Join us for Spectre Week!

This is a fanwork event week celebrating the Ghost Crew from Star Wars Rebels, AKA the Spectres.

May 25-31, 2024.

No prompts! Just a theme: Tales of the Spectres.

Alllll the backstories! Inspired by the Star Wars animated Tales… series, our theme will focus on the Spectres’ lives before they became a crew, a team, and, in some ways, a family.

Each day of the event will feature works about the day’s Spectre:

Day One-Spectre One (Kanan)

Day Two-Spectre Two (Hera)

Day Three-Spectre Three (Chopper)

Day Four-Spectre Four (Zeb)

Day Five-Spectre Five (Sabine)

Day Six-Spectre Six (Ezra)

Day Seven-Free

The only limitations for fanworks are these:

Character: Feature one character per day, on the appropriate day.

Timeframe: Tell any part of their backstory that you want, from birth until just before Spark of Rebellion.

NSFW: This event is open to NSFW content, but please tag it as such and place it under a cut as needed.

Other than that, the rest is up to you! We’ll send out more info soon, but we hope that’s enough to get you started. If you have any questions, Just Ask!

Please reblog to spread the news!

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 1 | AU/future

lil ghostic au of mine!!! yuzuru and the rest of fine are long since trapped souls in an abandoned mansion of which rst come across while looking for shelter during a storm :] it doesnt um. particularly end well

[skygirlstars]

I'm a day late, but here's Clone Wars era Chopper for day 3 of Spectre Week! didn't really know how to make him look Clone Wars era, but you know he'd have a blast wrecking some B1s

@spectre-week

[whitecap-bay]

May 25: Day 1, spectre 1 : Kanan Jarrus.

This is my submission for Spectre Week

@spectre-week

[kanerallels]

My first fic for @spectre-week!! This one was born from my obsession with N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards series (go read it, y'all, it's amazing) and is hopefully vaguely comprehensible. Here it is on AO3!

The forests of Kaller are not particularly noteworthy to most of the galaxy. The snow lies heavy on the surrounding mountains, and the wind sings sharply through the branches of the conifers and the kallnut trees. It’s not a top tourist destination, despite the beauty.

The current residents are more focused on the war that is being fought over this planet and hundreds of others. The Clone War has ravaged the galaxy for close to three years now, and at times it seemed it would never end.

Until now.

But there’s something much darker going on in the forests now, as an army of clones hunt for a missing Jedi Padawan crouched in a tree.

The last thing Caleb Dume should have been focusing on was the trees around him. His master was dead, and the clones who had been his friends and allies mere moments ago were now hunting for him.

And yet. As he leapt from branch to branch, heart pounding with terror, he found himself noticing. Noticing the deep brown barked trees with three pronged leaves that were sprinkled in between the conifers here and there. Kallnut trees, he remembered his master calling them. As he crouched on one of the branches, his fingers wrapped around the grooved bark, and Caleb felt a tug in his heart.

This way, the trees seemed to whisper. This way.

But he didn’t have time to indulge in daydreams, so he kept running.

When the clones found him and he fell from one of the trees, it wasn’t a kallnut. He kept running, until he made it to a ravine. One of the clones tried to convince him to come back, but Caleb knew he couldn’t. There was no one he could trust anymore, no one who wouldn’t try to end him for the saber at his side and the holocron in his belt pouch.

When he leapt across the canyon, he heard it again. The whispers, leading him deeper into the forest.

This time, he had nothing to lose from following it. So he did, led by a trail of deep brown barked trees.

Miles away, he found it. The biggest kallnut tree he’d ever seen, looming above them all ominously. The wind rustled the light green leaves, and Caleb almost forgot about the clones chasing him, about what he’d seen mere minutes before.

The fear receding, he moved slowly closer. There was a strange energy to the air, a humming. The Force rippled strangely, in a way Caleb had never experienced before.

When his hand touched the tree, for a moment his fingers fit perfectly in the grooves of the bark.

And then there was something like a flash of lightning. A dagger of pain went through him, and he hit the ground, unmoving, while fire blazed through him.

When he woke, Caleb Dume was blind. 

He was blind, in the middle of the woods, on an unknown planet with hunters out for his blood.

His hands were shaking as he pushed himself upright. All he remembered was touching the tree, and then… something strange. Something rushing through the Force like a wave of fire, crackling towards him and consuming him.

But he wasn’t dead. Just blind and achy, his stomach churning and his hand throbbing with pain. Instinctively, Caleb reached out for the Force— then recoiled.

It was like looking straight into the sun. Too bright, brighter than it ever had been before. The world around him was burning with life and green fire.

How could that be true when it also felt far too empty now, without Master Billaba?

Fear and grief swelled in his chest, but Caleb stubbornly pushed it back down. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his face, feeling a cold breeze chill his face.

There were no sounds that indicated he was still being hunted. But he couldn’t stay here. He’d freeze to death or be caught. The only way was forward, even if it was going to be slow.

Vaguely, Caleb remembered seeing a stray branch laying on the ground not far from the tree he’d approached. Staying on his hands and knees, he felt around in the grass crackling with frost. The snow hadn’t reached through the thick branches of the kallnuts here, but it was still cold enough that the ground was hard and the tips of Caleb’s fingers were stinging.

It was only a few minutes before his hand closed around the branch he’d spotted. Tentatively, he pushed himself to his feet, using the branch for help. It was a decent length for a walking stick, and it was solid. Sturdy.

He clutched it tightly as he cautiously started through the woods around him.

It took him a long time before he’d made it back to the nearby city. By the time he did, Caleb had sort of gotten the hang of navigating without eyesight. The walking stick helped, though he was still unsure. Still scared.

The city was worse than the woods. In the woods, he was alone and surrounded by trees. Safer than anywhere with people— and worse, clones.

But they would know to look for him in the woods. Here, he would blend in, and he was less likely to freeze or starve to death.

He came pretty close to it anyways, until Janus Kasmir found him.

The Kalleran took pity on him and fed him. And, when Caleb begged him, he let him come to his ship, giving him some place safe to sleep. Even if it was only for a little while.

He hadn’t really slept since losing his master almost a week earlier. Only fitful bursts here and there. Now, scrubbed clean and curled up on one of Kasmir’s bunks, he dreamt of blaster fire and screams, and kallnut trees growing high above everything else.

When Kasmir helped him the next morning, he commented, “I didn’t remember you being blind, kid.”

“It was… recent,” Caleb said quietly. He didn’t know how else to explain what had happened, the strange fire that had burned through him. 

“Huh. Have something to do with that burn on your hand?”

The burn. Caleb hadn’t seen it, but he’d felt the pain, the throbbing agony. Without any better ideas, he’d torn a strip from his robe and wrapped it up. Until last night, when he’d been cleaning up. In the fresher, he’d… seen it. Not his hand, but the burn, more like a brand. A symbol, one that he’d never seen before, but knew the meaning of immediately, instinctively.

It was a kallnut tree. Vibrant and green and growing and solid. Unwavering. And it was part of him now, in a way that he couldn’t express in mere words. Caleb vaguely remembered reading about something like this in the Jedi Archives, but at the time he’d been too tired to even try and figure it out.

“Kind of,” he said, and Kasmir seemed content to leave it at that.

He’d thought that would be the end. Kasmir clearly didn’t intend for him to stay, blind or otherwise. He’d most likely just throw him out on the street, and the Kalleran had clearly planned on doing just that.

But then his emergency signal went off.

The Jedi, who he’d thought were dead, were calling him back to the Temple.

Relief flooded through him for one magnificent moment. He could go home. The masters, some part of the Council, surely would have made it. Someone would know what to do about his blindness, and he would have some small piece of his life back.

But he had no way of getting there. And Kasmir flatly refused to take him there when Caleb asked him— begged him to take him to Coruscant. The Kalleran refused, then stalked out of the ship, telling him to finish his meal then get out.

Frustration boiled in his chest, and he threw the bread Kasmir had given him across the ship. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he bit back a scream of helpless frustration.

I have to do something, I have to be able to get to the Temple. But without a ship? Without the ability to see what he was doing?

As if on cue, a tiny crack of light blossomed around the corner of his palm. 

Shocked, Caleb yanked his hand back. The light in the ship was dim, but to his eyes it was blisteringly bright. Blinking back tears of pain, he stared, unbelieving at the ship around him.

He could see again.

There was no real time to take in the shock and relief pounding through him. He was already charging into the cockpit, starting up the engine and taking off. The coordinates to Coruscant were easy to remember, and Caleb was working on autopilot. He was going home. He was going back to the Jedi Temple.

Only minutes away from exiting hyperspace, he received a new message.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for all remaining Jedi…”

Caleb listened to the words, numb with horror. The only thing that jolted him out of his panic was the ships surrounding him as he floated above the planet’s atmosphere. Coruscant wasn’t safe, just like Kasmir had said.

He barely made it out alive. And when he got back to Kaller, Kasmir was furious with him. The Kalleran barely seemed to notice he’d regained his vision, or care. He just tossed him off the ship and told him to never come back.

But Caleb truly didn’t know where else to go. So he stuck around, until one day, he saved Kasmir.

Sort of. Kasmir didn’t seem to think he’d really done him any favors. But it got him a job with the Kalleran, which went… interestingly. In the end, Caleb stuck with him. Despite the fact he insisted on calling Caleb “kid”, and had sold him out as part of a con, and was gruff and sarcastic.

He was familiar, and he wouldn’t betray him. At least, Caleb didn’t think he would. And he was only a little nosy.

“So, you didn’t stay blind long,” he remarked one day as they sat in the cockpit of the Kasmiri, watching hyperspace blur past them.

“Yeah,” Caleb said slowly. “It… I don’t know. I wasn’t lying.”

“Nah, I could tell that,” Kasmir said with a dismissive wave. “Ya know, I heard stories about that kinda thing, once. About people going temporarily blind, and when it stopped, they were… different. Kinda like the Jedi, but it was different. Green men, they were called, since they had this tie to some sort of plant.”

Caleb’s throat was dry, but he managed a nonchalant shrug. “Hmm. Sounds like an old story.”

He could feel Kasmir watching him with narrowed eyes, but then he shrugged. “Eh, just a legend. Could be a real one, or not. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Right,” Caleb said, the tightness in his chest easing a little.

Green men. He knew that legend, a little bit. Stories about the seventh son of specific families in parts of the Outer Rim. Their connection with different kinds of plants, the power it gave them. Caleb had never actually met someone with those abilities.

But now… he glanced down at his hand, covered in a glove. Beneath it glowed the kallnut tree— sturdy brown trunk, three-pronged leaves shimmering a light green. Strong and steady, humming with a power that he didn’t quite understand.

Part of him wanted to test it, to reach into that well within him. But he knew better. It wasn’t safe to be a Jedi, and the green men weren’t safe either.

So he kept it hidden. As the days slipped by and he kept working with Kasmir— until things went sideways, and he had to leave. To protect himself, but to protect Kasmir, too.

No one was safe around the Jedi any more. Caleb was better off on his own.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Caleb Dume was better off dead. Kanan Jarrus was better off traveling on his own, far away from anyone else who could die. Far away from the Force, too. And that was the way things stayed.

At least, they stayed that way until he met Hera Syndulla.

~~~

Hera still wasn’t completely used to having a new crew member, even after a full month of it. Not in a bad way, by any means. While Kanan was a shameless flirt (though he’d toned that down a little, thank the Force) he was also a hard worker, quick to pick up on the plans she made and even quicker to come up with his own. He also made her laugh, although she’d often refuse to admit it.

But having a new person on the Ghost was, well, new. Hera was used to looking out for herself and Chopper, and Kanan threw a wrench into that dynamic. Most of them were easy to cope with— someone else using the refresher, his insistence that they didn’t subsist on only ration bars, which resulted in a lot more shopping, to name a few.

However, he also had a habit of disappearing whenever they landed in a remote area, especially when they were near a body of water or trees. Hera had asked him about it, and he’d just said he was meditating in the vaguest possible way. Considering he was a Jedi, that was most likely true.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain in the neck sometimes. Namely, when they needed to leave, and Hera couldn’t find him.

She’d accidentally left him behind once. While Hera had realized it before she’d even broken through the atmosphere, and had gone back immediately, Kanan had been VERY dramatic about it. So Hera had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

Which was why she was now taking a not so lovely stroll through a stand of trees on Tythlona, in search of her crew member.

“Kanan?” she called out warily, weaving between tangled brush and ancient trees. The forest here was old, but most of the trees were smaller, with twisted limbs and golden-green leaves. They all reached above Hera’s head, but not by much, and she could see the evidence of fallen fruit underfoot. “Kanan, can you hear me? It’s time to leave.”

There was no response, and Hera let out a sigh of annoyance. They were due to leave soon, and she hated to linger on a planet where she’d run a mission, even if it was just dropping off supplies. There was still a chance, however small, the Empire could track it back to them. 

She opened her mouth to call for Kanan again, then stopped. There was a break in the trees ahead, and something was moving.

Instinctively, her hand twitched towards her blaster, but she didn’t draw it yet. Instead, she moved forwards through the woods, staying at the ready.

It wasn’t long before the trees fell away, and Hera was standing at the brink between the cool, shady woods, and a wide open plain of golden grain. A small expanse of grass split the ground before the grain sprang up, and it was there that Kanan was kneeling, his back to her.

Hera’s voice stopped in her throat at the sight before her. She’d never actually seen him meditate before— but she’d seen other Jedi do it, and it didn't seem like much. It certainly hadn’t looked like this.

All around Kanan, plants were springing up in a long half circle. Saplings, Hera realized as she slowly approached, staying as quiet as she could. The tallest barely brushed the top of his head, buds twisting to life on the spindly branches. As she watched, crumpled leaves smoothed open, their three tips stretching towards the sun. They were growing before her very eyes.

The saplings seemed to hum with life and a rich green energy, framing Kanan until he almost looked like he could be one of them. Hera stood, uncertainly watching him, until he finally moved.

Lifting his head, he turned and looked at her through the leaves. Surprise flashed across his face, and he got to his feet, moving carefully out of the ring of small trees. Their rate of growth had slowed a little, but the tallest of them already reached Kanan’s mid-chest.

“Hey,” he said, pausing in front of her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Well, you were clearly distracted,” Hera said, her gaze flashing from him to the small ring of trees. When she looked back at him, his expression was… self conscious. Embarrassed, almost.

“Yeah. I, uh…” he paused, looking back at the trees for a moment, a half-smile crossing his face. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t a Jedi thing?”

Hera’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I suppose that explains why I’ve never heard about it before. Then… what is it? If you want to share,” she added immediately. “If it’s none of my business, then tell me that.”

Kanan shook his head, grinning a little. “Hey, it’s all your business at this point, Captain Hera.” He lifted his right hand, and Hera saw he wasn’t wearing the fingerless gloves he always had on.

She quickly realized why. On his palm was etched a burn scar, deep and old. But it wasn’t just a scar. It was something more. Something that, as Hera watched, shimmered with a green light the same shade as the leaves on the tree.

“There’s an old legend,” Kanan said quietly. “About the seventh son in certain family lines— usually in Outer Rim planets, although I couldn’t tell you which. But those seventh sons have a connection to a plant, and that connection grants powers that I don’t really understand. All I know is that they’re strong. Strong enough that it’s a miracle I haven’t been spontaneously growing trees this whole time.”

“So… you’re one of those seventh sons?” Hera said slowly.

“I never knew my birth family, but… apparently, yes.” Rubbing at his palm, Kanan said, “I learned about this growing up– at least a little bit. But I never understood the scale of the power, of what all it would mean. I was only fourteen when I got it, but I’ve barely used it since then.”

“Fourteen?” Hera did some rapid math in her head. “So that would have been—”

“Right after the Purge. And I mean right after.” Kanan let out a wry laugh. “Not the best timing. I’ve… I’ve never actually told anyone about this.”

Hera knew what that meant, coming from him. Kanan wasn’t closed off, necessarily. He was open enough, and friendly— more than just friendly, with his flirting. But he kept his secrets close to the chest.

Or at least, he had. These days, he was starting to be more and more open with her. And that wasn’t something Hera was going to treat lightly.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she told him quietly, and he smiled.

“I know. You’re nice like that.”

Hiding a pleased smile, Hera commented, “You know, just when I think I have you figured out, you come up with something new. Any other mind-blowing secrets you have hidden?”

Rubbing at his beard, Kanan frowned in mock concentration. “Well, my killer good looks aren’t a secret to anyone, so… nope. Looks like you’re the mysterious one, now.”

Hera laughed. “I’m honored, dear. Are you ready to go?”

“One minute.” Kanan turned, bending to pick up his gloves from where he’d left them. For just a moment, he lingered by the trees, fingertips tracing over the tops of the dancing leaves. And then he was pulling on the gloves, turning to face her. “Let’s roll.”

As they headed back to the ship, Hera asked, “What kind of trees are they?”

“Kallnut trees,” Kanan said. “Apparently the nuts are pretty good, but I’ve never stuck around one of them long enough to find out.” He glanced at her. “Any more questions?”

It was a genuine question— Hera could tell. She took a minute to consider, then said, “What does it feel like?”

A thoughtful frown knitted Kanan’s brows as they came out of the trees. The Ghost was landed nearby, and Hera knew it was only a matter of time before Chopper came out to demand where they’d been. But Kanan stopped anyway, looking like he was turning the question over and over in his mind.

“It’s different from the Force— and the same,” he said. “The Force is just… there. Always. Like a river you’re walking next to, and can dip your feet in at any minute. It’s easy to reach, like breathing. This is… brighter. More persistent. They’re both easy, but if one’s more confusing, it’s the kallnut tree. But it’s strong. I— I don’t know how to explain it other than— can I?”

He slipped off a glove and held his scarred hand out to her. Hera’s breath caught, but she took his hand. His fingers were gentle and warm as he rested his palm against hers.

For a moment, there was nothing. And then, a flare of warmth from the knotted scar. Hera gasped as a humming brightness tangled around her hand. It was alive and strong and felt like roots deep in the earth, leaves reaching for the sky. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and was somehow fully… Kanan, yet not Kanan.

It was gone a heartbeat later, and Hera was aware of Kanan watching her. “Make any more sense?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Hera said, forcing herself to breathe evenly. “And no.”

He nodded, still holding her hand. “Same here.”

And then Chopper’s loud, accusatory bwomping cut through the stillness surrounding them, and Hera forced herself to let go of Kanan’s hand. But her fingers still tingled from the contact as she headed back to the ship.

Of all the potential crew members she could have ended up with, Kanan was definitely on the stranger end. But she found she didn’t really mind that.

[taxi-cab-to-art-town]

Commissions: Open

HalBarry week sneak peak. This is not the finished one but this is utilizing some of the pieces from the finished piece. Along with the concept sketch for the piece!!

[supersaiyanjedi14]

Spectre Week

Day One-Spectre One

*a few days late, but better late than never*

Caleb Dume looked out upon the Corsucant traffic as it flew past the night sky.  To just about any other 13-year-old, the day he had just had would have been the most exciting thing to ever happen to him.  After all, it wasn’t just any day you were chosen to be a Padawan apprentice, and to a master of the Jedi Council no less!  When Depa Billaba had stepped forward and officially declared the boy to be her chosen student, Caleb had swelled with unbelievable pride.  He was about to start the next chapter of his life, one step closer to becoming a fully realized Jedi.

Yet there was also a sense of apprehension behind Caleb’s enthusiasm.  While the time he had spent with Master Billaba had assured him of her warmth and kindness, the remarks of other people of her being “damaged” still gnawed at the back of his mind.  He had been sparred most of the grisly details of what happened on Haruun Kal, but not all of them.  The things she had said and did, the horrors she had been subjected to, enough to drive her mad and fall into a two-year coma.  Caleb had been jumping at the chance to go out and get some action before the Clone Wars wrapped up, yet merely four months of it had nearly broken a Jedi Master.  It had been enough to pull him out of bed and pace around the Temple for a while, conflicting thoughts buzzing around in his young mind.

Caleb’s musings were interrupted by something tripping his senses.  A presence was approaching him, and given how strongly the Force was emitting from it, it had to be one of the masters.  He decided now was as good a time as any to slip back to his room.  Getting in trouble for being up late would hardly be the way to stary your first day as a Padawan.  Besides, he needed to get some sleep anyway.  Pulling his cloak around him, Caleb made his way out the door…

and bumped right into someone.

Caleb landed on the floor with a thud.  Wincing a bit, he looked back up, ready to apologize to whoever it was, only for his mouth to go dry.  Apparently, the presence he had sensed was a lot closer than he had expected.  Sure enough, it was one of the masters.  Specifically, a very tall, athletically built one with a shaved head and intense brown-eyed gaze.

“Ah- M-Master Windu!  I’m sorry, I was just- I mean- I…”

Caleb stammered uselessly trying to come up with an excuse.  For a long moment, Mace Windu just starred at the boy.  It took a moment for Caleb to realize that the Korun was not looking at him with annoyance or disapproval.  Rather, he seemed more curious than anything else.

“Padawan Dume, is it?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Y-yes, sir! I- “

“Slow down, son.  You’re not in trouble.”  Windu’s hands raised slightly to ward off Caleb’s rambling, his mouth curling into a slight smile at the same time.  “You’re hardly the first young Jedi to be up past his bedtime.”

“Right,” Caleb said as he pulled himself back to his feet, though he still hesitated to meet the Jedi Master face to face.

“Although,” Windu continued, “I am surprised you of all people are up this late.  If I remember correctly, you have a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah- er, yes, Master,” Caleb corrected himself.  Indeed, he and Master Billaba were due to leave for Ilum in the morning.  Going to build his first true lightsaber was a landmark event for any Jedi.  “I guess I just have some stuff on my mind.”

Windu’s expression softened a little.  “Stuff like what?”

“Well…” Caleb paused for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.  Ultimately, he decided to just rip the bacta patch off.  “It’s about Master Billaba.  I mean, I like her, she’s a great Jedi, I’m proud to be her Padawan- “

“But you keep thinking about what happened to her.  And what people say about it.”

It was a summation, not a question.  Caleb would have normally been embarrassed to be caught like that, but somehow it felt better to just be honest about it.  He sighed.  “It’s just, she’s a Jedi Master.  And she was out there for only a few months.  And look what happened to her.”  He turned to pace a little around the room.  “What if something like that happens to her again?  What if…”  He didn’t finish, but he guessed that Windu could fill in what was unsaid.

What if that happened to me?

Windu was silent for a moment, then spoke.  “It is a sad position that one so young is troubled by this.”

Caleb turned to finally face the Jedi Master.  “I don’t suppose you can give any advice.”

Windu thought for a bit.  “I’m not exactly the leading expert on life counseling, I’m afraid,” he said with a hint of humor, “but bear with me.”  He pressed a button on the wall panel, and a rack emerged from an opened section of the floor.  Several metal cylinders were arranged on the rack.  Caleb instantly recognized them, and only now recognized that he had been in one of the training halls the entire time.

He blinked in confusion.  “Master?”

“I believe more in showing than telling.”  Windu explained, removing his cloak and hanging it on a hook.  “Lightsaber combat is more than just learning to fight.  It can also be an exercise in spirit and a way to reflect upon yourself.  And in any event,” he smirked as he drew the electrum-plated weapon from his belt, “a bit of exercise may help you get some sleep tonight.”

Caleb nervously laughed.  “I see your point Master, but I don’t think I’m about as good as you are.”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

Caleb relaxed a bit at the remark then shed his own robe.  A sparring match may be just enough to take his mind off things.  Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the rack and selected one of the training sabers.

Standing at opposite ends of the room, the two Jedi bowed before igniting their blades.  Caleb tried to relax as he gripped his weapon in the ready position.  He was normally good at keeping himself relaxed when training, letting the Force fill his awareness and strengthen his body.  Still, squaring off against arguably the greatest swordsman the Order ever produced was daunting no matter how you sliced it.  Easy, he told himself.  This was about clearing his mind, not adding more baggage.  Taking a deep breath, Caleb tightened his grip and advanced.  In a flash, the room was filled with flashes of light and the cracking of plasma.  Caleb’s blue blade moved through the sequences Master Drallig had drilled into him since he could walk, each slash driven by the currents of the Force.  Windu blocked each blow with practiced ease, his amethyst weapon one step ahead of Caleb’s.  Light flashed around the chamber as the two blades clashed again and again.  Windu’s lightsaber suddenly shot forward, the tip hardly an inch from Caleb’s nose before he managed to leap back out of range.  He stumbled a couple steps, then regained his footing and rose his blade in a high guard, waiting for the next move.  Master Windu stood at the other end of the room, his lightsaber still extended outwards to where Caleb had once been.

The Korun smiled.  “Well done, Padawan.”

“Thanks,” Caleb replied, catching his breath while he could.  “Still haven’t gone a lot past the Form I drills though.”

“Not for long, you won’t.” Windu replied as he started to move forward.  “A few weeks with Depa, and you’ll be far more expanded than usual.”

Caleb nodded.  He had almost forgotten that Master Windu had been Master Billaba’s old teacher.  He of all people would know what she fought like.

In more ways than one.

Caleb’s boost of confidence dwindled a bit as his eyes fell on Windu’s torso.  One of the few details about the Haruun Kal debacle he knew about was that Masters Windu and Billaba had fought an altogether vicious lightsaber duel, a duel that had begun with her spearing him through his stomach and being swallowed by the darkness.

“Hopefully not too far,” he whispered under his breath as he moved to intercept a few of Master Windu’s jagged slashes.  He had thought he was speaking too quietly for his opponent to hear.  He was wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Windu let out a light chuckle as he and Caleb locked blades, “she’s not going to be throwing you into Vaapad right out of the gate.  And especially not without my say-so.”

Caleb broke the lock and responded with a few quick stabs to force the Master back.  “Not sure I’d want to, anyway.”

Windu cocked an eyebrow and shifted to a low guard.  “Why is that?”

“Well…” Caleb hesitated a moment, unsure of what to say.  “I mean…isn’t it kinda why she went bad?  I mean, Master Drallig said that style brings you close to the Dark Side, right?  And Master Billaba, on Haruun Kal, she, you guys fought and-”

“Padawan.”  Windu interrupted, snapping Caleb out of what could have turned into a nervous ramble.  Windu’s expression was serious, but not hard or cold.  Caleb could see the calm exterior that was Mace Windu’s specialty, but at the same time, he sensed a simmering fire behind those fierce brown eyes.  Getting himself back into position, Caleb raised his blade as Windu continued.  “Do you know why I created Vaapad?”

Caleb thought a moment, then nodded.  “You wanted to rework Form VII, right?  Make it something that could fight the Sith.”

“Partially,” Mace agreed, “But there was a second point as well.”  His purple lightsaber rose into a powerful high guard.  “I created it to fight a very specific darkness; my own.  Defend yourself.”

Before Caleb could comprehend what that meant, Windu moved.  A flash of purple swept into Caleb’s peripheral and he only barely got his own blue beam up in time to block it.  No sooner had the blades crackled that another strike came from another angle.  And another.  And another.  Caleb worked to intercept each of the powerful blows.  And as he did so, Windu continued to speak.

“Yes, Caleb Dume.  I have a darkness within me.  Every being does.  Mine expresses itself here, in battle.  I like to fight.  I thrive on the trill of battle.  In the wrong hands, I could have been swept up by the Dark Side.  Vaapad exists to counter that.”  Mace and Caleb were now moving through the chamber with even greater speed, the elder hammering on the younger’s defense as he barely fended him off.  Barely, but still able. 

“When I fight, I accept the fury, letting it empower me.  But it does not control me.  Rather, I control it.  I also accept the fury of my opponent, turning their power against them.”  Blue and purple explosions filled the room as the two kept moving.

“The darkness is around me; I call upon it to strengthen me…but I do not let it touch me.”  Finally, the movement stopped, Mace Windu pressing his weapon down on the raised guard of Caleb Dume.  The two stoon there for a moment, then Mace disengaged and stepped away.

Caleb’s breath went short and hard.  He had been in plenty of intense training sessions before, but this blew them out of the water.  Despite how tired he was, he retained every word the Korun master had said.

“So…why…”

“Why did Depa fall?”  Mace finished for him.  “Recall that everything I just said requires the user to maintain strict control of himself, preventing the darkness from getting too strong a hold on him.  That may not always be possible.  Maybe he is tired or scared.  Maybe he has experienced something horrible and it weighs on him.  Maybe the weight of his responsibilities is too great for him to brush aside and be begins to crack.  All these things can happen.  Even to Jedi.”  With that, Mace deactivated his lightsaber and returned it to his belt.

Caleb turned off his own weapon, though he still did not entirely understand.  “But don’t we train to not let that happen?”

“We do,” said Mace as he walked forward.  “But all the training in the universe cannot quell one critical thing, Caleb.”  He knelt to the ground to be on eye level with the boy.  “Jedi are people.  And people can be weak at times, they can face darkness, and sometimes they can fall away.”

Caleb nodded a bit.  “But Master Billaba is back?”

“Yes, she is.”  Mace put his hands on Caleb’s shoulders.  “Because we are here for her.  Everyone can fall, but everyone can also rise back up.  Sometimes on their own, sometimes with the help of others.  No matter how hard one stumbles, one can always get back up again.  You will face great trials in your future, even when this war is over.  But you needn’t fear that you may be lost to whatever darkness you confront.  Know this, Caleb Dume.  Wherever you go, whatever you may face, there will always be someone to help you back up.”

Caleb’s nod was a lot stronger this time.  “I think I get it.”

Mace smiled.  “Good.”  He rose to his feet.  “Now, I think you should be getting back to your room and get some sleep.  You have a busy day tomorrow.”

Caleb smiled his own lopsided grin.  “Right!”  He placed the training saber back on the rack, grabbed his cloak, and made for the door.  Before he departed, he turned around back to Mace, who was setting the room back in order and retrieving his own cloak.

“Hey, Master Windu.”

Mace turned to face the boy, whose face was showing the sense of relief he was feeling within.  “Thanks for the help.”

Mace returned the smile.  “Any time.  Sleep well, Padawan Dume.  And may the Force be with you.”

[tarisilmarwen]

Chapter Title: Tales of the Spectres: Sabine

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Rating: M

Character(s): Sabine Wren, Ketsu Onyo, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Garazeb "Zeb" Orellios

Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Before they were “a crew, a team, in some ways family”, the individual members of the Spectres were always running, never knowing that their paths were being slowly, inevitably, guided towards each other.

AO3, FFNet

@spectre-week

Some discussions of blood and injury, also angst.

Preview:

---

Sabine pried heavy eyelids open, fighting against something crusted in her lashes and an overwhelming feeling of tiredness.

Her vision refused to focus. Her ears were ringing. She seemed to be lying prone, but her head and torso felt weirdly upright. Was she leaning on something?

She blinked, a sluggish, exhausted motion, and registered the blur of colors that was her armor and jumpsuit.

[halbarryweekfeed]

Spectre; Time Travel; "Love is the opposite of choice."

Art:

@galaxy---ghost : Time Travel on Tumblr

@briarmoon1015 : Spectre on Tumblr and Instagram

@taxi-cab-to-art-town : Spectre; "Love is the opposite of choice" on Tumblr

Fic:

Only You, Darling (Only You) Ch4: Replay by @layspotatochipabs (M)

“Barry,” Hal leaned into his touch once more, caressing the speedster’s hand with his own, clutching it like a lifeline. “Stay with me, please. Stay,” he begged, his eyes becoming watery, a single tear trickling down his cheek before it evaporated in a blazing green light.

“I-I can’t, Hal,” Barry cupped the side of Hal’s face with his free hand, pressing their foreheads together. “I have to go back,” he relented, his chest tightening in pain upon seeing Hal’s devastated expression. Barry couldn’t change the future, no matter how badly he wanted to for Hal (and he so badly wanted to). 

reset, restart by @overlyobsessed223 (T)

Barry learned, long ago, the importance of letting the past go. Adapting to the present. Keeping eyes locked on the future ahead.

Don’t look back; focus on what is and never on what was.

or, the struggles of being your world's reboot button.

Halbarry Week So Far!

Day 1 Parts 1 and 2

Day 2 Part 1 and 2

Day 3 Part 1 and 2

[notanodinarygirl]

@spectre-week

Day: Free

Type Of Submission: Video Edit

Song: Counting Stars (simply three version)

Content/Background : Alright so I was really not going to post anything for the spectre week but all the fanarts and fanedits of everyone who participated inspired me alot. So I did the only thing I was good at that is make an edit! I made this edit the last moment and it turned out better than I expected. Here's my edit :)

[spectre-week]

One Week Until Spectre Week!

We are just one week away from the start of Spectre Week ( May 25th-31st).

Info on the event can be found here

Day 1 (May 25) Spectre One: Caleb Dume/ Kanan Jarrus - intro post

Day 2 (May 26) Spectre Two: Hera Syndulla- intro post

Day 3 (May 27) Spectre Three: C1-10P/Chopper- intro post

Day 4 (May 28) Spectre Four: Garazeb Orrelios/Zeb- intro post

Day 5 (May 29) Spectre Five: Sabine Wren- intro post

Day 6 (May 30) Spectre Six: Ezra Bridger/Jabba the Hutt/the Emperor's nephew/Lando Calrissian/Commander Brom Titus/Dev Morgan- intro post

Day 7 (May 31) FREE DAY

We are very excited to see what everyone has come up with!

Also, don't forget the other Star Wars Events going on!

@swprequels-big-bang [Signups are closed] will pair authors and artists together to create awesome works based in high republic, the prequel trilogy, clone wars/bad batch, rebels, and or/rogue one, and jedi fallen order!

@jedijune has an event running through the month of June, with a couple different prompts every week to celebrate our force sensitive heroes!

@sabineweek (June 23-29) is all about honoring our girl spectre 5! With a different prompt each day, there's something for Sabine fans everywhere!

Please reblog to spread the news!

@swfandomevents

[75-spectrekestis]

Threw this fic up late yesterday but here’s my entry for day 2 of Spectre Week <3

Rating: Teen and up

(Slight warnings for minor blood and underage drinking)

Relationships: Hera Syndulla & Ahsoka Tano

~

This fic was really just me given the opportunity to write about how Hera and Ahsoka came to know each other alongside Hera finding her footing in the Rebellion. I totally like to think that Hera and Ahsoka had a friendship going on before the Rebellion took up much of their time and energy.

[skygirlstars]

teen Hera on Ryloth for Spectre Week day 2!

@spectre-week

[whitecap-bay]

Day 5, Spectre 5 : Sabine Wren

This is Sabine when she was a cadet at the Imperial Academy

@spectre-week

[kanerallels]

I can't lie, day 3 of @spectre-week was the only one I had an immediate idea for and executed it in a normal, timely fashion. So here it is!!

The bays of Venator-class star cruisers were always busy, especially before and after missions. Pilots and engineers and droids dashing here and there, dealing with problem after problem. Taking steps towards fighting the war that was tearing its way across their galaxy.

In the center of the hubbub were the Y-wings— the ships that were flown in combat by the clones, and occasionally the Jedi. At the moment they were being serviced— by engineers, mostly, assisted by droids.

One of those droids, an orange-domed astromech, was supposed to be running diagnostics on his Y-wing. But C1-10P had never been particularly skilled at obeying orders.

According to some nosy life forms, he’d come off the assembly line defective, with a cranky and occasionally violent demeanor. C1-10P didn’t really care what they said, as it wasn’t really their business.

Oddly, that comment was how he’d ended up the navigational astromech for one of the clone pilots. CT-25253, who called himself Yancy, had requested him immediately upon hearing the droid overseeing him and the other astromechs complaining about him.

“Don’t worry,” he’d whispered to C1-10p as they’d headed to the Y-wing they would fly in together. “They say I’m defective, too— can’t read too well. The letters just swim in circles when I try. But hey, who needs a good attitude and reading to take down the Seppies?”

C1-10P was generally inclined to agree. Even if Yancy was overly cheerful and was convinced he needed a nickname. He claimed that a string of numbers wasn’t much of a name for anyone, even a droid, so he spent a lot of time trying to figure out the right one.

Not right now, though. Right now he was talking to the engineer examining their Y-wing. C1-10P didn’t really spend more time remembering being’s names than he had to, but considering this one was one of the few beings on the ship who seemed to be somewhat competent, it had stuck with him. 

Nita had blue and black streaked hair twisted back behind her head and olive green skin, and she was currently halfway under the Y-wing, messing with the engine. Yancy was leaning against the side of the ship, talking to her in a casual voice as she worked. C1-10P didn’t know what he was saying, but he got the gist. His pilot spent a lot of time talking to Nita, and unfortunately she didn’t seem to mind.

So busy the two of them were— Nita mostly with her work, Yancy entirely with charming Nita— that neither of them noticed the two brown-robed figures walking past. But C1-10P did.

He quietly watched the duo as they paused, watching the engineers at work. One was tall and didn’t have any of the hair most humans did, just dark brown skin and a serious expression edged with a bit of a frown.

The other was shorter, with lighter brown skin and brown hair looped behind her head. Hands tucked into her robe sleeves, she strolled closer, watching Yancy and Nita with a small smile on her face.

She glanced at C1-10P and winked. “Looks like you have your hands full, my friend,” she told him in a low voice. “I know the type. Good luck.”

“You have no idea,” C1-10P told her, and she laughed.

“Depa.” The stern-faced man spoke from a little ways away, his expression gentling a little as he spoke. “The captain is awaiting our arrival. We shouldn’t make him wait.”

“Of course, Master.” Giving C1-10P a smile, the woman said, “Until next time. Safe stars out there.”

Before C1-10P could so much as beep his gratitude— which wasn’t really something he’d do. Often. But maybe this time— she was heading on her way with her companion. Interesting, the droid thought.

But he didn’t have much time to ponder. Before he knew it, he’d be up in a Y-wing again, fighting a war that wasn’t his. But at least he had a good pilot and a better engineer. There wasn’t much more he could ask for at the moment.

[accidental-spice]

My (late) contribution to @spectre-week ! Lasan 99, AKA, what if Zeb had a team he worked with before the massacre on Lasan, and I drew most of them via Brooklyn Nine Nine quotes

One part of this idea I particularly liked is, what if each of Zeb's current team mates in the Ghost crew reminded him of his old team mates in some small way? Just the idea of Sabine rolling her eyes in a particular way, or Hera's taste in music, or Kallus's tone when he tells someone off all reminding him of people he used to know... I just LIKE it. Plus also, I love parallels