#spiritassassinexchange

[mxopifex]

For @accidentaldogdad as part of the @dailyspiritassassin fanworks exchange. 

They mentioned that they liked mythology and my brain went to gorgon Baze with his blind husband, and stayed there. 

[poorlyformed]

My gift for @hissmycookies! Headcanon that Baze did leave Jedha after the fall of the temple, but returned after three years because it was too hard to be away from Chirrut. Chirrut was delighted not only by Baze’s return, but also his grown-out hair and new facial hair.

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[standstillgo]

the thing is…

[Gift for @heartequals ‘s (@birdcage) for @dailyspiritassassin!! Her prompts were fairly open-ended but a poem she provided inspired me. It is called “The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass for which I’ve linked just in case you can’t read my crappy handwriting! This somehow turned into more of a study into Chirrut’s side of grief - the poem just read that way to me. I am HOPING this comic comes across as “my city is ruined, my husband is always gone doing force knows what to make money, I can barely help the orphaned children around here, and I am tired - but Baze makes life worth living/fighting for” (I mean, sure, there’s the force and Jedha City itself all that but this was THE SPIRITASSASSIN EXCHANGE after all!) I hope it was what you were looking for!]

[shiparmada]

This is my exchange fic for @anagrammaddict !! Thank you to @dailyspiritassassin for hosting such an amazing event!

Anagramaddict wanted hurt/comfort, so I hope that you enjoy!

“Baze, Baze my love, wake up. Kaya!”

Baze slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the side of Chirrut’s face. He wanted to close his eyes again, go back to sleep. His entire body was trying to drag him down, to protect him from pain. Pain. That was what Baze was feeling. His shoulder, the left one. He turned his head to look, and saw Chirrut’s hands, red with blood, pressing against his shoulder. “Chirrut…” Baze muttered. “Chirrut that hurts, stop…” Why was Chirrut hurting him?

“Baze,” Chirrut breathed and he pressed more into Baze’s shoulder. Baze gasped with the bolt of pain. “Baze, you’re awake, stay with me, please.” Baze turned his head to look at Chirrut’s face again. He looked at the knit of his eyebrows, the lines around his eyes. Chirrut was scared. Why was he scared?

Kaya slid into view and she kneeled next to Chirrut, a med pack in her hands. She opened it up and pulled out the bacta. “What was he hit with?” Kaya asked. Baze hated it when people spoke as if he was not in the room. It was not a feeling he was familiar with. His size made it difficult to ignore him. A wave of dizziness hit and his head spun. This time he would let go of Kaya’s rudeness.

“I don’t know,” Chirrut snapped, his words harsher than necessary, “I didn’t exactly see it.” Kaya nudged at Chirrut’s hands, and Chirrut swallowed, carefully, reluctantly, pulling his hands away. Baze looked at his shoulder again, ignoring Kaya undoing his jump suit.

“Chirrut, you stained my suit…” he muttered. Chirrut moved to Baze’s other side, his hands reaching down and sliding over Baze’s cheek. “I liked this jumpsuit…” Baze muttered.

“I know, I know,” Chirrut said quietly. Callous slick fingers slid along Baze’s temple and Baze suddenly felt tired again. “Baze,” Chirrut said, voice suddenly firm. “You need to stay awake, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Blood? Baze looked back at his shoulder. It was more difficult to turn his head this time, it meant moving away from Chirrut’s hand and he enjoyed when Chirrut touched him like this. Kaya was ripping down his jumpsuit, and he saw the hole that was marring his shoulder, blood seeping out of it and over the smooth skin there. “Well, shit,” Baze muttered. Chirrut let out a laugh, a surprised almost hysterical laugh. Chirrut was always more inclined to laugh then cry. It was either not very bad, or it was much worse than Baze thought. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Looks like a slug shooter,” Kaya said as Baze turned his head away. “The slug is still in his shoulder, I’ll have to get it out. Baze, this is going to hurt.”

“Already hurts,” Baze muttered. He looked back at Chirrut, startled to see tears in his husband’s eyes. “Chir,” Baze muttered, and his right hand moved, taking Chirrut’s hand. It was curled up tight, short nails digging into his palm, and Baze used his fingers to uncurl the fingers slowly, sliding his fingers into Chirrut’s hand. “I’ve been shot before…”

“I know,” Chirrut said. Chirrut pulled Baze’s hand into his lap, squeezing it tight. “That does not make me worry any less.”

Baze let out a small laugh and he tried to squeeze Chirrut’s hand back. His head turned a bit so he could look at Chirrut properly. “I’m tired…” he muttered. Chirrut’s hand squeezed Baze’s hand hard again, and Baze was briefly distracted from the pain in his shoulder because of the pain in his fingers. “I know,” Baze muttered, “I can’t fall asleep.”

“I’m going to get the slug out,” Kaya warned. It was not enough of a warning though. Suddenly all Baze felt was pain. It spread from his shoulder and through his entire body, a stinging wrenching pain that pulled a scream from his throat, cutting through the silence of the room. Then everything was dark again.

\\

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, I am one with the Force and the Force is with me, I am one with the Force and the Force is with me…”

The repetitive prayer slid through Baze’s consciousness, and it was the first thing Baze was aware of as he woke up. Baze clung to it. He did not want to be asleep anymore. He had slept too long. He needed to make Chirrut dinner, Chirrut was terrible at taking care of himself. He was always so focused on his spiritual, on his faith, on his forms, that he often forgot that he was still human, still needed to eat. Baze could not just sleep the day away when his husband needed him. He let the prayer pull him up, back to consciousness, and he looked up at the ceiling above him, a sandy yellow color, same tone as many of the homes on Jedha.

Baze swallowed, and it was like swallowing thousands of daggers. Small stinging pains moving down before fading slightly away, leaving behind a sticky soreness. The prayer stopped, and he wished that it would continue. Baze no longer believed the Force cared about him, but the prayer was comforting. Reminded him of home. It made him want to say the second half of the prayer, the Force is with me, and I am one with the Force, but he would not. Could not. “Chirrut,” Baze managed to whisper. The pain in his shoulder, a dull throb, was starting to become more pronounced, but he pushed it away. He turned his head when he heard footsteps on the floor, and managed to see Chirrut’s feet right before Chirrut knelt next to him, taking Baze’s right hand and pulling it up.

“Baze,” Chirrut breathed, and he kissed over the palm of Baze’s hand. Baze could not hide the smile that formed as he watched his husband, watched as he pressed kisses against his palm, comforted himself with the knowledge that Baze was once again awake. He watched as realization spread on his face, and Chirrut released Baze’s hand, Chirrut’s hands patting the floor around him before finding a cup that Baze had not noticed. “You’re probably thirsty,” Chirrut said, and Baze was thankful for his foresight. “Do you think you can sit up?”

“Mm,” Baze hummed the affirmative, and he used his good arm to carefully push himself up. The world around him spun a moment, and he swallowed down the dizziness. It would pass in time but Baze was not a terribly good patient. He ignored as Chirrut tried to hand him the cup, and his good hand reached up, cupping the back of Chirrut’s head and pulling him close, kissing his husband deeply.

The kiss was deep and rich, poured out of Baze like honey. He felt Chirrut return in kind, a sort of languid movement that quickly turned fierce. Chirrut’ free hand moved up and into Baze’s hair, tangling in the wavy strands, and clung to Baze. When Baze broke the kiss he could see that Chirrut’s eyes were wet, but his stubborn husband was determined not to let them fall. “I could use that water now,” Baze rumbled out, and Chirrut pressed the cup into his chest for him to take.

The water soothed the thousands of tiny tears in his throat, probably produced by the screaming and certainly made worse by the lack of liquid. He swallowed the water down happily and slowly set down the cup, leaning close and kissing Chirrut again despite the dizziness that was building again. “Rest,” Chirrut breathed against his lips and carefully pushed on Baze’s good shoulder to lay him down. “Kaya says that it will scar,” Chirrut said when Baze was finally horizontal again. Chirrut took Baze’s hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze, his other hand coming up to stroke over the bumps and tendons of his hand.

“That is alright,” Baze said simply, squeezing Chirrut’s hand in return. “It will just be another piece of me that you will get to feel when you run your hands over me. Just another ugly scar on an ugly man.”

Chirrut’s lips thinned until Baze could barely see them. Baze had been trying to tease, make a joke, because Chirrut always reacted better to humor than comfort. Baze’s joke fell flat though, and he wished he could take it back. “You are not ugly,” Chirrut said as he carefully placed Baze’s hand on his chest. Chirrut stood up carefully and made his way across the room.

Baze’s eyebrows came together, and he pushed himself half up with his good shoulder. “Chirrut, where are you going?” He realized he was afraid that Chirrut out go, leave. It was not a large fear, not one that would consume him or fill him in a nightmare, but it was a fear all the same. A boy who did not want to lose sight of his mother. It made Baze feel small, and there were very few things that could do that.

“Nowhere,” Chirrut said gently. It was a tone Baze had not heard since the last time he got hurt. One Chirrut used when he knew that Baze needed to be comforted. He watched as Chirrut knelt, next to a bag Baze realized. Chirrut reached into it and pulled out a comb before he moved over, kneeling above Baze’s head. “You’ve been lying all day, we don’t want your hair to get matted.” He reached down, untying leather cords from Baze’s braids, sliding his fingers through them to untangle the plaits. Chirrut pulled back Baze’s hair and then urged him to lay down again.

“It is not every day I am willing to do this for you laying down, Baze Malbus,” Chirrut said, in a familiar teasing tone that put Baze’s anxious heart at ease, “enjoy it while it lasts.”

Baze had let out a huff at the words but closed his eyes and enjoyed himself all the same. He relaxed at the gentle touches against his scalp, the careful way Chirrut pulled the comb through his hair, finding all the tangles. Baze let his mind wander, focusing on the feeling of Chirrut’s fingers in his hair rather than the throbbing in his shoulder. Better to focus on that. He felt his body sag into the sleeping roll that was underneath him. When Chirrut was finished, Baze listened to the small click as the comb was set down, and smiled gently when he felt Chirrut’s lips on his forehead.

Chirrut slid along the floor to Baze’s right side, slowly laying down and tucking himself into Baze’s side, under his arm. Baze knew Chirrut would prefer them chest to chest, or chest to back, somewhere where Chirrut could feel Baze’s heart beat along with his own, but that would probably be asking too much of Baze’s poor shoulder. This would have to do for now.

“I had thought that you were gone, for a moment,” Chirrut said quietly against his side, and his hand moved to rest on Baze’s chest, sliding over it quietly. “All I heard was the shot and then you were down. I did not even think before I hit him, knocking him out quickly so I could get to you.”

“Did you carry me all the way here?” Baze murmured. He was sure that was a sight for anyone who had been looking in that moment. Chirrut carrying a bleeding man so much larger than him. He could hear the comment Chirrut wanted to make, heard the small sarcastic, No, I decided to leave you bleeding on the street. I needed a new husband anyway. He heard the small click of Chirrut’s jaw as he kept those words in, deciding against the joke. Whether for Baze’s sake or Chirrut’s he would not ask.

“Of course,” Chirrut said instead, “you bled all over me. I had to get Kili to go home and get me new robes. Well, I did not. Kaya made her. I would have stayed in blood soaked clothes if it meant that I could stay by your side. Kaya would not stand for it though.” Baze let out a quiet laugh that was cut off when the throbbing in his shoulder increased with the movement. Chirrut pushed himself up in an instant, ready to spring into action, to get whatever Baze needed. “Is everything alright, did you hurt yourself? Is it bleeding again?”

“I’m fine,” Baze grumbled, and the arm that had been tucked around Chirrut moved up and he pulled him back down, refusing to continue speaking until Chirrut’s head was back in its place on Baze’s right shoulder. “I forget sometimes that everything in the body is connected. The pain reminded me.” Chirrut squirmed against Baze’s side, impatient, wanting Baze to be healed already, and Baze sighed, kissing the bristly hairs on Chirrut’s head. “I will be fine, Chirrut.”

It was Chirrut’s turn to huff and he nodded, sliding his hand over Baze’s chest again. “I will believe you because I have no other option but to.” Chirrut slowly stilled except for the hand running along Baze’s chest, drawing small circles along Baze’s undershirt. “We’re going to have to get you more clothes,” Chirrut finally said, “that jumpsuit was ruined.”

“I know,” Baze murmured, closing his eyes and relaxing again. He tried to identify the symbols that Chirrut was drawing on his chest. Some of them were nonsense, little movements of the hand that had no sense of direction or purpose, just needing to move. Other times though they made patterns, ones Baze recognized, symbols that had been all around the temple, in books, on statues, in holos, along the walls. Symbols that meant things like Balance, Faith, Humility. They were drawn against Baze’s skin and then quickly wiped away by the randomness again. “Kaya and Kili will want us to leave their house at some point,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Chirrut echoed his husband’s words, and he tipped his head to kiss Baze’s shoulder, pressing the kiss there gently. “Once you are well enough to walk, we will go home.” Chirrut’s hand slid lower, to Baze’s stomach, and then hesitated before sliding back up. “And when you are feeling better, I will show you how grateful I am you did not die in the alley.”

Baze let out a laugh at that, a weak laugh but a laugh nonetheless, and he kissed Chirrut’s head again. “Well, now I have incentive to rest up and heal as quickly as I can.”

Chirrut laughed and he moved up slowly, kissing Baze gently and letting out a breath. “Mm, I will hold you to that, Baze Malbus.”

[briny]

it’s very late in the day but I’ve been stupid busy, sorry abt the delay!

this is @safarikalamari‘s gift for the @dailyspiritassassin exchange, she wanted a fantasy au of some sort so I went with chirrut as some kind of paladin and baze as his demonic bodyguard. Thanks for a really fun prompt! I hope I wasn’t too off the mark

[anagrammaddict]

This is my very very very overdue fic for @thedrawfill for the spiritassassin exchange as hosted by @dailyspiritassassin . I’m so sorry and more than a bit ashamed that it’s taken me this long to finish >.< @thedrawfill, I hope I managed to fulfil some of your prompts, and apologies once again.

.

.

Their shared living quarters didn’t have much furniture, and yet there was an air of clutter and warmth to it: there were a couple of stools, a squat table that Baze had made with his own hands, along with the wooden divan which he was sitting on. The few cushions currently being flattened by his weight, he had stuffed them himself and knitted the covers. A hand-dyed bantha-hair rug covered the floor, and in the far corner of the room were two bedrolls, side by side. There was also a tiny kitchen with a cooker and a gas cylinder and an oven with an antiquated analogue dial. Plus a full tea set complete with a tea tray, strainer, coin-sized cups, teapot, pitcher and a squat clay dragon as a tea pet.

When they had first moved in together, out of the novices’ dormitories, their quarters had been little more than a couple of adjoined bare rooms right at the back of the Temple compound. At night, the walls kept no heat in, and they’d spent the first few months shivering together, pressed into each other’s bodies under layers of quilts, complaining and cursing each other’s icy hands or feet or lips.

But gradually, during their free hours, Baze began fixing and installing generators and heating coils, nailed in extra shelves and storage cupboards. Making furniture, buying cheap appliances, growing an array of indoor plants. Filling space.

Home, to Baze, was a concept that he’d spun together with his hands. He’d put together most of their home, this shared space, but it was Chirrut who held everything in place. He’d built and sewn and set everything around Chirrut.

Near the window, where Chirrut now sat, hung a clanking collection of old kettles and pots filled with soil and brimming with trailing greenery, all purchased from the seed merchant at the souk. Kuulferns and saltmeadow runners and huangsha bracken, most of them non-flowering but tough enough to withstand Jedha’s cold. There were also more delicate perennials that died and came back to life, and then died again. The browning tongues of orchids lapped at the dilute sunlight.

.

Chirrut brought the tea to Baze, carefully. The cup steamed between his hands. The tea was rosebud-hued, pristine, passed through a strainer at least three times. He hadn’t drunk it yet, but already, Baze felt a hot molten swell in his chest. He put his hands around Chirrut’s. The pink tea was a circle of warmth between their hands. He took the cup and set it aside, and instead pulled Chirrut onto his lap so he was straddled by Chirrut, brushed his fingers against Chirrut’s cheeks and ears, stopping, as always, on Chirrut’s eyelids, which quivered beneath his touch. An eyelash came loose and Baze flicked it away. He kissed the edges of Chirrut’s smile.

.

.

full fic on AO3

[rainbowstarbird]

Graphics I created for the @dailyspiritassassin fanworks exchange, for @sarkastically! Her prompt was watercolor style, with rock/earth imagery for Baze and air imagery for Chirrut. So I did portraits inspired by their spiritual connections to the elements. Hope you enjoy!

[kerriss]

for @handsomebaze  Baze has always loved to bake. Some of his favorite memories from the temple are being in the kitchen with Chirrut.  There was always guaranteed to be a mess afterwards (between the flour flying and the berries squishing) but it was always fun, plus the look on Chirrut’s face when they finally got to try the finished product right out of the oven was priceless.  

@dailyspiritassassin

[mollynoble]

faith (noun) 1. complete trust or confidence in someone or something. 2. strong belief in the Force or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual belief rather than proof. – Baze’s own faith was less a belief or trust in the Force and more an allegiance to the Guardians, his trust placed in flesh and blood people, not in the ambiguous all-powerful Force controlling everything. Chirrut’s belief, on the other hand, his devotion to his spirituality, was as much a part of him as the blood that ran through his veins. His faith was a pure certainty. But their faith in each other trumped all other allegiances, over the Guardians and the Force.

This is my work for the @dailyspiritassassin fanwork exchange. @spaceviking asked for hurt/comfort and stuff about Baze's hair, so here it is, I hope you like it:)

[proudtoehaver]

The Fading of Light

After Denic, Kaya Gimm and the children are safely off planet, Chirrut and Baze return to their home seemingly in bliss. But happy endings rarely remain happy, or endings.

Written as part of @dailyspiritassassin‘s Spiritassasssin Fic Exchange for @seaofolives

Prompt: If familiar with the book, the night immediately after the ending of gotw. (Ooooh boy am I familiar.) May not have been exactly what you were looking for, but I hope it satisfies anyway.

Can also be read on AO3.

Chirrut's hands are curled around a mug of cooling tea as he sits in their tiny home, listening to the sounds of the city. It is hushed tonight, a tense quiet as it waits for the blow to fall, the Empire's retaliation for a stolen shuttle, for the fact that the people of Jedha had dared stand up to them, dared to escape in so openly a fashion.

At least Denic, Kaya Gimm and the children were safe. As safe as anyone could be in the galaxy these days.

"You're meant to drink that," Baze grumbles from the stove. "Not stare at it."

Chirrut takes a sip, more to placate his husband than because he wants to and grimaces at the lukewarm liquid. Only belatedly does he realize that Baze set him up to make a joke, but doesn't pursue it. He is in no mood to joke.

Their small room is filled with the smell of cooking food, the scent of the simmering chava roots and laichi mixing with that of the boiling oora grains. On any other night Chirrut would find the smell delicious, but tonight he has no appetite. Like the city he feels like he is poised, waiting, unable to relax and find comfort in small things, knowing and yet not knowing what will come, unable to prevent it.

With a silent reprimand, he tries to push the whirling thoughts aside, worrying about that which has not yet happened will gain him nothing except restlessness and a lack of focus. He downs the rest of the tea and focuses of the sounds of Baze at the stove, the creaks of the floor as he shifts his weight, the soft clinks as he stirs the pots.

But Baze too is far too silent. Usually when he cooks he will mutter and hum under his breath, telling Chirrut much about his state of mind from what he sings. But tonight, there is nothing. Chirrut wonders if the lack of sounds from his husband subconsciously is contributing to his own unease.

As perhaps does his lack of sense of him. He used to be able to sense his husband, always, ever, but late it has become harder, as if Baze's presence flickers in the Force. Or as he is fading away, retreating.

Rising, Chirrut goes and rinses his mug, placing it in the sink. Baze moves aside without a word and without touching him, no brush of their bodies against each other as they customarily do when they pass close to each other.

Chirrut feels as if he's been sucker punched, the lack of physical contact as painful as a blow.

"I really thought this was how I'd finally get rid of you."

Baze's words from that afternoon springs into his mind. At the time he had considered them a joke, his husband's usual form of humor, but now? Had Baze meant them?

Chirrut shakes his head, trying to dismiss the thought. He's not an adolescent, he's far too old for such ridiculous insecurities and he knows Baze too well.

Or does he? Truly?

Baze had been as unwilling as he to sacrifice the children's chance for safety for a direct strike against the Empire. And he had been the one to break off the relationship with Gerrera, but he only did so after it was clear that Chirrut was staying on Jedha.

What would Baze have decided, had Chirrut chosen to go with the children?

"Will you be standing there all evening? I need the tap." Baze's voice – flat and unemotional – jars Chirrut out of his disturbing thoughts. He is standing right next to him, close enough that they almost touch but conspicuously not doing so.

Chirrut steps aside, deliberately brushing his hand over Baze's arm as he does. Baze pulls away with a jerk, but not before Chirrut feels anger spill through the touch. No, not anger, fury.

Baze's anger has been there for years, since the Empire came to Jedha, since the temple fell, even before that, but the white blaze he senses in the touch is new, if not in nature, then in intensity. But even that was hardly new.

"Here your anger only grows. You must leave Jedha before it consumes you."

He has sensed Baze's anger grow over the last months, before they ever even heard of Gerrera, but the General had fed it. Passion answers to passion.

"If you are simply going to stand there loitering you might as well go back and sit at the table, food is almost done."

"Baze," Chirrut starts but he can hear Baze turn away from him and back to the stove.  

Helplessness wash over him. He doesn't know how to fight this. How do you argue against silence? How do you move that which walks away from you? Not knowing what else to do he does as Baze tells him and sits down at the table.

How much they both have changed and not for the better. He would blame the General, but that would be misplaced. Gerrera's appearance did not change them, it just brought to light the changes already there, brought on by the Empire's occupation, by the loss of the temple, by trying to stay alive in a city whose 'authorities' were now hostile too all those of faith, hostile to the very populace they ruled.

A bowl is put in front of him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Eat."

Chirrut takes his chop sticks, picks up a piece of chava root and puts it in his mouth. It tastes like ashes to him. With a sigh, he puts the chop sticks down again. He can feel the brief glare Baze sends him, but still his husband says nothing.

This has to be dealt with and the only way he can think of is head on, no matter how much that may hurt.

"Would you prefer me to leave?" Chirrut asks quietly.

Yesterday he would never have asked this, yesterday it would never have occurred to him that Baze might feel this way. But now, tonight, being poised in this state of uncertainty and waiting and seeing clearly, perhaps for the first time, all the changes that has happened in Baze and in himself it will not leave him.

"What are you talking about?" Baze asks in return.

"This afternoon, I remember what you said."

He finds himself hoping that Baze will tell him that it was just a joke, that there is some other reason for his reticence and distance, but it withes when his words are met with more silence.

"You wouldn't understand," Baze replies at long last.

"Then make me!"

The depth of his own passion surprises him, but it feels like everything is slipping through his fingers like the desert sand and perhaps he should not try to stop it, perhaps this is how it is meant to be, but the thought of losing Baze fills him with dread. Their equilibrium has been upended and he feels like he's falling with no way of reestablishing it.

There is a shift in Baze's presence, a further fading, as if he's drawing away again. Not gone, not vanished, not yet, but slipping away.

"Since you're so eager to bring up this afternoon tell me this, do you really think so little of my self-control?"

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently you think I can't control my anger."

Chirrut sits stunned.

"That... was not what I meant."

There is nothing but even more silence from Baze.

Chirrut reaches out, seeking Baze's hand. Normally he knows precisely where his husband is within a millimeter's accuracy, but now he's groping blind his words stuck in his throat.

His fingertips brushes calloused skin and cracked nails, and he folds his fingers fold around Baze's hand. After a few seconds Baze's hand turn and his fingers bend to envelop Chirrut's.

"You have a soft heart," Chirrut whispers when he finds his voice again. "I do not want to see you lose it. Your anger burns so hot and have burned for so long, sometimes I fear it will destroy that softness, turn it to nothing but ash. With the children, you were happy."

Chirrut squeezes Baze's hand.

"It is not your self-control I doubt, but we have both changed so much. Much rather than see you lose your gentleness I would have you far away, in a place and with people where you can keep it."

Baze's free hand comes up to cup Chirrut's cheek, coarse skinned fingers tenderly brushing across the cheek bone and down his jaw.

"Do you remember the day we learned the Clone Wars had started?" Baze asks.

"A bit of news that is hard to forget, wouldn't you say?" Chirrut says with dry humor after a moment's silent confusion at the non- sequitur.

Baze huffs, a hint of amusement in the sound.

"I didn't mean the news, I meant the day itself. Before we heard."

He remembers that he had been truly happy that day, before they heard. His sight had been all but gone, only his ability to discern light and shadow remaining and even that would fade completely before the year was out. But he had made his peace with it, relearned his life and skills and on that day, he had felt he truly had his feet under him again. Only to later learn that the galaxy was coming apart at the seams. The irony of it both saddened and amused him.

"Yes, I recall it," he replies.

"You managed to best me in combat that day, for the first time since you lost your sight. You glowed."

"You mean I was young and prideful enough to get arrogant about my victory," Chirrut says, drily amused.

Baze chuckles.

"You had good right to be proud of yourself in that, but even before you won you were radiant." Baze sighs. "I wanted to protect that, but I couldn't."

"Baze-" Chirrut starts, but Baze continues without stopping.

"You were radiant again today. I haven't seen you like that since that day."

"And you wanted to protect that," Chirrut concludes.

He smiles with a mixture of wistfulness and joy. Standing he moves to Baze's side, wraps his arms around his shoulders and leans down to kiss his hair.

"Old fool," he whispers fondly, the words meant as much for himself as for Baze.

Baze clasp Chirrut's arm tightly.

The anger is still there, as powerful as ever, but Baze no longer feels as he's fading away to Chirrut. Baze sits still in his embrace, but Chirrut can feel the slight pressure against his midriff as Baze's weight shifts in against him. A second later a hand settles around Chirrut's wrist.

It is Baze who breaks the silence.

"You should finish your food. Who knows when we'll next have the time to sit down and eat."

Chirrut resumes eating. The food no longer turns to ash on his tongue, instead he notices the subtle flavoring that Baze has added to the meal.

"It is odd that the Empire has not already retaliated," he says after a few mouthsful.

"Perhaps they don't want to admit that someone could steal a shuttle right from under their noses?"

"They haven't been late to respond at any other time, no matter how ignominious it made them look to admit they had lost something."

"Levels. Losing supplies is common theft, losing weapons implies the possibility of serious resistance. Losing a shuttle... that's more than an implication. I'm not sure they're going to retaliate, not when they didn't do so right away."

Chirrut chews slowly on a chava root before swallowing.

"So people might be safe?"

"For now," Baze rumbles.

For now, it will always only be 'for now' as long as the Empire remains on Jedha. And there was no indication that they would leave, nor was there any fighting them that would not make the people of Jedha pay a steep price.

Sighing Chirrut continues eating.  

Like Killi had said, it was a never ending and constantly escalating cycle that could only end in one way as far as Chirrut could see, with Jedha's destruction. But how many would lose their lives before then? And not live long enough to see the possibility, however faint, that the Empire would one day leave? Without having the chance of leaving themselves?

The thought makes him sit up abruptly, his mind suddenly awhirl.

"What?" Baze asks.

"Every person on Jedha makes for a target for the Empire," Chirrut says slowly, trying to sort out his thoughts as he speaks.

"Not like most people doesn't have the ability to leave," Baze comments.

"Not on their own."

The chair creaks as Baze shifts on it.

"What do you mean?"

"Between us, we know a lot of people here on Jedha."

"Yes."

"People who can pilot, people who knows the underworld, people who knows how to get off world."

"You're talking about smugglers, thieves and killers. You think they would help out of the kindness of their hearts?"

"No, but few of them have any love of the Empire. And a few still have faith."

Chirrut doesn't need to see to know Baze is shaking his head, but it is true all the same.

"So you would have these people of ill-repute do what exactly?"

"Help people off Jedha? I thought that was obvious."

"Did the wind turn your head?"

"No. I'm serious. Remember what Killi said? That the circle of us striking against the Empire only to have them strike back against us, has to be broken? But it cannot, until the Empire leaves, or people do."

One of Baze's hands grips Chirrut's wrist tightly, in an almost desperate grip.

"Chirrut, you can't save the entire city."

Chirrut lets out a slow breath.

"I know. We might not even be able to save that many. But every person who leaves is one less person who can be a target for the Empire."

"You're crazy."

"Perhaps, but I'm also right. And what else would you have us do? Go back to Gerrera?"

"No," Baze answers in a flat tone.

They continue to eat in silence, Chirrut knowing that Baze will need time to mull over the idea.

"Hmm, Rena Brenko knows their way about ships and they've been off planet more than once lately," Baze says slowly once they're done. Chirrut can hear from his tone that he's warming to the idea. "Let's clean up this and we'll go see them."

"Now?" Chirrut says surprised.

"Yes, now. There is no reason for waiting and have you ever known Rena to care about curfew?"

"No."

"Have you ever known us to care about curfew?"

Chirrut grins and Baze makes a small 'well?' sound.

The dishes are quickly cleaned and the table cleared, and they head off into the Jedhan night together.

There is coming a battle, Chirrut can feel it in the hush that is still lying over the city, in the stillness of the Force. When it comes he knows that the people of his home will pay a high price indeed and there is nothing he or Baze can do to change that, but by doing this at least some will be safe.

[archiveofolives]

Belong/Bones

A/N/SUMMARY and the recipient of this fic for @dailyspiritassassin’s summer 2017 fanworks exchange is…!! /drumroll @ivory-leigh! who requested for “angsty with a happy ending, rot-your-teeth sweet, and sick/whump fics. Everyone lives AU” and me, being an overachiever who shouldn’t be allowed to have any ambitions at all, decided to put them all together in one long-ass fic >.>;;; SO HERE IT IS, i hope you enjoy it, mandy! ♥♥♥ also i hope it’s somewhat coherent ahahahahaha :BBB

RATING/WARNINGS g/pg/pg-13?? there really aren’t any warnings tbh

WORD COUNT 13,084 (no one is surprised that this got hella longer than i intended. also i hope it doesn’t turn out to be a huge waste of time ♥♥♥)

AO3 here

[safarikalamari]

where i’m going you can’t save me (yet)

Summary: Of all things to come with the fall of the temple, Baze doesn’t expect this

Rating: T

Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Role Reversal (kinda)

Words: 1094

A/N: For @sithchirrut as part of the @dailyspiritassassin fanworks exchange!! 

-

AO3

or

Baze woke with a mist clouding his sight. He dismissed it at first until memories shot through his mind, painful and clear. The temple doors smashed off their hinges, stormtroopers rounding up students left and right, Baze had tried. Tried to fight back, protect the younger ones, but the stormtroopers were greater in number, forcing Baze to his knees. He grimaced, remembering the sound of cynical laughter when he prayed out loud.

Leaving his thoughts in favor for his companion, Baze felt the spot next to him and panicked when his hands hit nothing.

“Chirrut?” Baze sat up, whipping his head around for any signs of the other man.

With no reply, Baze scrambled to his feet, his hand braced on one of the remaining temple walls. His eyes searched the piles of rubble, the crumbling walls until he saw Chirrut where he should have expected him. In a far corner, Chirrut sat in front of shallow graves, his head bowed.

Sighing, Baze found the strength to approach, letting Chirrut know of his presence with a hand on his shoulder.

“Baze, why?” Chirrut whispered, his hands twisting his robes.

Thinking to their lessons over the years, Baze opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Chirrut.

“Don’t talk about that. I will no longer follow foolish words and speculation.”

Baze was taken aback, his lips pursing in worry. Chirrut had never stopped Baze before, nor spoke with such contempt. At a loss, Baze struggled to say what was on his mind as he waded through his confusion.

“We must have faith, Chirrut. The Force-”

“-Why should I put my faith in something that has abandoned me time and time again?” Chirrut scowled. “I’m tired, Baze. I’m sick of holding on…”

Heat pricked at the corner of Baze’s eyes, but he said nothing. He could tell there was no reasoning that would make Chirrut listen. Stubborn as a child, stubborn now, Baze wondered why Chirrut had even continued as long as he did at the temple. He never paid attention during lessons, despite passing with flying colors, and they became guardians together even if Chirrut had laughed the entire ceremony.

With ruins around them, Baze could sense the darkness filling Chirrut’s heart, but there was something else. As if Chirrut himself was going only so far into his anger before pulling back.

It was then Baze knew the Force would lead Chirrut through, even if Chirrut didn’t believe so. There wasn’t going to be persuasion or telling Chirrut what he wanted to hear. Chirrut was going to take care of himself and Baze wondered if it was freeing rather than a burden.

“I will be near,” Baze breathed, in awe of the man before him.

When no reply came, Baze stepped away, the darkness creeping closer than he would have liked. It was only when Baze walked through the remains of the temple entrance that he finally exhaled.

Away from Chirrut, Baze could not hold himself any longer and tears ran down his face.

~

By the time Baze’s crying had subsided, dusk had fallen in NiJedha. The light posts were just beginning to illuminate the streets and Baze went to find sustenance before he would go back to see Chirrut.

He was sure Chirrut would want little to do with him at the moment, but he supposed having this Chirrut was better than no companion at all.

Baze kept his head down until he made it back to the temple ruins, walking with trepidation to where he had left Chirrut. Greeted by emptiness, Baze’s stomach dropped and he rushed through the area for any signs of the man.

Stumbling through an archway, Baze’s breath left him when he saw Chirrut sitting next to what remained of the meditation pond. Parts of the pond remained uncovered and Chirrut was dragging his fingers through the soiled water.

Baze took his time approaching, wincing a little when the sound of rubble underfoot made Chirrut turn his head slightly.

“Where did you go?” Chirrut asked. He sounded curious, but Baze felt only guilt for leaving Chirrut alone.

“Food. Water,” Baze replied.

He didn’t dare tell Chirrut about his own feelings, more concerned about keeping Chirrut strong at this point.

Chirrut made a small noise of understanding before focusing back on the water, otherwise unmoving as Baze sat down near him.

In the past, Baze had always been able to bring Chirrut up with stories, prayers of the ancient Guardians. It birthed a sense of renewal in Chirrut like nothing Baze had seen. Now, it seemed useless and Baze’s own spirit was thrown into the turmoil.

“I appreciate all you’ve done, Baze,” Chirrut began, his voice low. “I will not ask you to throw away everything we’ve learned. I know how important it is to you.”

Baze pursed his lips, wanting to say otherwise, but he knew it would just be a lie. Chirrut and his faith were on the same line. In Chirrut, he found his faith and in his faith, there was Chirrut. To separate the two would be even more torturous than all that had already happened.

Again, his voice failed him and Baze reached out, setting a hand on Chirrut’s arm. Chirrut shifted only a little, his other movements keeping their repetition. For a while, it was only their breathing to be heard, the occasional slosh of water mixed in as light and dark coursed through their minds. The stars were glowing bright above them, an unwelcome beauty against the temple destruction.

“Baze?” Chirrut broke the deafening silence, shuffling closer to Baze.

“I’m here,” Baze was quick to react, shifting his arms to his sides.

He waited until Chirrut had settled before wrapping his arms around him, his heart pounding in his chest. Upon seeing Chirrut visibly relax, Baze almost wanted to cry, but held himself together for his companion’s sake.

“That’s all I need,” Chirrut murmured.

It was clear the exhaustion was taking over his body and Baze gently rocked Chirrut until he had fallen asleep.

Only then did Baze whisper his prayers, his wishes and fears. There was barely anything left for the two of them and for Chirrut, not even the Force existed.

While it hurt Baze to no end, the day brought with it an ever growing faith. The Force had its trials and tribulations, ones Baze was willing to endure.

He would be Chirrut’s faith now as they continued on together. A balance was possible, needed, and Baze gave Chirrut another tight embrace as a star sailed across the sky.

[ndn-bebop]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Through the years the resistance crumbles and reforms, things are lost and gained and through it all they still manage to get married--twice. Written for @batdad for the spiritassassin fanwork exchange of summer 2017. special thanks to @supernaturalbc for the feedback and making sure I mind my spelling. A special apology for being late...!

[dailyspiritassassin]

Hi everyone! Thanks to all who are participating in our summer 2017 fanworks exchange! Since we’re coming up on our posting day, we thought it’d be a good idea to give y’all an idea of how posting is going to work. 

The posting day is August 15 - on this day, you will officially post your fanwork and reveal yourself to your recipient. Don’t post before this day, but once it’s August 15 somewhere, feel free to start posting! 

Host your fanwork wherever you like - here on tumblr, on livejournal, on AO3, or any site of your choosing. Since this exchange is hosted on tumblr, there will be nothing you need to formally turn in - just post your fanwork on the posting day! 

If you don’t end up posting your fanwork directly to tumblr (i.e. you post your full fic to AO3), please make a post on tumblr so we can reblog it here to the dailyspiritassassin blog

Either @ us or put #spiritassassinexchange in the first five tags so we’ll see your post, and please @ your recipient so they’ll see the post as well

If you need to drop out, the drop-out deadline is August 1, so please let us know soon if you won’t be able to make it so we can assign pinch-hitters!

If you think you can finish but you need an extension, please let us know ASAP! 

And as always, if you have any questions, please let us know!

[thewintermusketeer]

Spiritassassin Exchange Fic

IT’S DONE AT LAST

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11809854 

Summary: 

Baze and Chirrut were slowly settling into their places within the alliance, the decision to stay difficult enough. It had been the rebellion’s promise to help support the network of Jedhan survivors - to share the knowledge and art and culture salvaged from the empire’s destruction - that had swayed Baze in the end. And for all that they told other people, Chirrut followed Baze just as much as the other woman followed her. ...

An old married couple living in the rebellion after Scarif, having sleepy sex, and being Force-Ordained Soumates™ (or so Chirrut would have you believe).

@littlerebellion @dailyspiritassassin

[gmhmlia]

SpiritAssassin’s Gift!

Firstly, I would like to apologize. I feel like this didn’t get quite on the adventure I was hoping for, but since the deadline is today, I’ll send it first. I’ll write the second Chapter and send that as well. Dear @noblerosetyler, I hope you enjoy what I’ve got so far, but there is more to come! Also, here you go, @dailyspiritassassin 

Also, please don’t post this anywhere, as I would like to do it myself. Thank You!!

Learning to Fly, A Rogue One SpiritAssassin Fic.

No Summary Written Yet (Welp)

Exactly a month and a week ago, Baze Malbus had been standing with his best friend, Chirrut Imwe, in front of Guardian Nemlo and the Head Guardian was just beginning to detail the first Journey Baze and Chirrut would be undertaking as newly minted Seventh Duan Guardians. The Journey had been relatively simple, all the two would need to do is guide a group of Pilgrims safely through the Desiccated Tablelands. Once through, Guardians from the Guang Shan City Temple of Kyber would be the Pilgrim’s guide for the rest of the way. It wasn’t uncommon for Temples to send Guardians of the Seventh Duan or higher with groups of Pilgrims that needed to cross the Desiccated Tablelands, as the area was rife with natural and man made hazards. As Guardians with the Seventh Duan would be trained in many useful skills, such as wayfinding, combat and basic medicine, crossing the Desiccated Tablelands was a very popular Journey. After Guardian Nemlo had dismissed Baze and Chirrut, both men had returned to their shared quarters and begun preparing for the two and a half month long Journey, using the couple days notice to pack bags, make all the necessary foodstuffs and mending any holes that appeared in their traveling gear.

At dawn of the day Baze and Chirrut would be meeting their chargers, Guardians Nemlo and Syllu met them at the Gates leading to the Holy City. The older Guardians blessed them off with portions of the ‘Chant of Voyagers’ and with that, Baze followed Chirrut and the light sound of tapping into the slowly waking streets of Jedha City.

Fast forwarding to the present, with Baze and Chirrut having just met with the Guardians from Guang Shan City Temple and officially finishing their Journey with the Pilgrims. The other Guardians would safely guide the Pilgrims through the Fallen Plains, named for all the fallen statues broken across the cold desert landscape, and towards Guang Shan City, where the Journey would end.

Turning to Chirrut, Baze asked, “Shall we begin our Journey home?”

Chirrut, always the little bantha shit, pouted and whined, “But Baze, I really wanted to see all those fallen Jedi statues!”

Baze held his breath, knowing Chirrut wasn’t quite finished yet, “Wait, Baze, help! I think I’ve lost my vision! I can’t see!”

Air came gushing out of Baze’s lungs loud enough that Chirrut’s grin, as impossible as it may seem, grew wider. Shaking his head, Baze began walking back towards the Desiccated Tablelands, knowing that Chirrut would follow swiftly.

“Baze Malbus, don’t you shake your head at me! I legitimately require assistance! What if I trip over something on the ground I couldn’t see?” Chirrut wailed as he ran to where Baze had walked to a few meters ahead, undermining his own argument as he flew over the desert on quick and stable feet.

“I think you’ll be fine,” Baze snorted as he continued walking, ignoring Chirrut’s loud indignant squawk, “Come on, let’s get going.”

Baze knew that at some point any minute now, Chirrut was going to whip up his walking staff and smack him against the back of the head. Baze also knew that all the preparing in the Galaxy wasn’t going to save his head from the pain. However, for the time being, Baze and Chirrut would simply begin the journey back through the Tablelands.

“Hey Baze,” The younger Guardian said, voice serious enough that Baze nearly missed a step, “What does the Desiccated Tablelands look like anyway? Are there any obvious landmarks or anything?”

Pausing for a moment, Baze moved so his friend was standing directly in front of him and gently cupped Chirrut’s elbow, “May I?”

A nod of agreement from Chirrut had Baze guiding his friend’s arm, “Just over in that direction ahead of us, one can see the outline of the Holy City and this is where our Temple sits. Outside of NiJedha, in this area starting in the East sit the Catacombs of Cadera.”

Guiding Chirrut’s hand to trace over both the East and West sides of the Catacombs of Cadera, Baze made sure to pause over a special feature that was situated between the end of the Catacombs and the start of the Tablelands, “And right in that area, about twenty-one days walk from where we are right now, lies one of the largest of the fallen Jedi statues.”

Remembering his friend’s somewhat silly request from earlier, Baze added, “If we make great time traveling across the Tablelands, we will have time to make a stop there. Would you like that?”

Baze didn’t need to be looking at Chirrut’s face to know the expression on the other’s face could be none other than that gentle smile the bigger man loved.

“Thank you, Baze,” Chirrut reached over and unerringly patted Baze on the arm, “I would like that very much.”

A moment of silence passed over the two friends, with Baze simply enjoying the moment. He loved moments like these with Chirrut, rare because Chirrut was rarely quiet; even in sleep, the blind man makes an interestingly loud racket. The moment of peace is sadly broken a few short moments later, by Chirrut sneezing rather loudly.

“Huh, someone must be thinking about me,” Chirrut muttered as he wiped at his nose, “I hope it's happy thoughts.”

Baze snorted, “Hmm, more like cursing your existence.”

Once again, the taller Guardian ignored his friend’s loud indignant cry, hoisted his pack and set off back onto the road. A quiet whoosh of air was the only warning Baze got before he felt Chirrut’s staff thunk him on the head.

“You’re such a meanie Baze! I thought you loved me!”

Some say when one realizes that their love is requited, there is a moment of bursting joy. However, for Baze, there was only a moment of cold fear. Did Chirrut think that Baze did not love him? Was it possible that Chirrut didn't know? Had Baze failed in letting the most precious person in his life know how much he was loved? Fortunately, Baze’s silent state of panic wasn’t happening unnoticed.

A hand on his shoulder brought Baze out of his head and back to the present, “Baze Malbus, you silly Guardian. Did you think I did not know? Did you think I was ignorant to what you have given me?"

The lump in Baze's throat prevented him from responding verbally, but Baze nodded his head and felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Seeing Chirrut's arms come up, Baze stepped forward and let himself be gathered into a hug. Stooping down a bit lower, Baze returned the gesture and he made sure to convey all the things he couldn't say to Chirrut through the hug.

The two Guardians stood there for a couple minutes in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence, before Baze felt a sharp pain in his ear, "Bantha shit!"

Pulling back, Baze tried to swat at the little shit who'd bitten him, but Chirrut had danced out of reach, "Wuguay! You need to catch me first!"

The knowledge that Chirrut Imwe, fellow Guardian and the light of Baze’s life, loved him as fiercely as Baze did was helping him fly across the landscape to catch Chirrut, where a rare whoop of joy exploded out of Baze.