#star wars self insert series

[boy-of-death]

I want to thank all the girls and the gays that are obsessed with shows that ended 10 years ago and still write about it. Thank you for your service, you are my sole lifeline 🫡

[sorry-but-no-sorry]

Thanks @shyranno for giving the opportunity to be held my the man himself

I couldn’t pick one…

The 2 first are early and current stages of Reah in my stowaway series

the 3rd one is the ‘dark side ending’ of jedi!Maul with my jedi sona, Yasu Gala-Meewey

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hear me out because I absolutely need an enemies to lovers style captain Phasma X jedi reader hate fuck

Ooooooooh yes! I would absolutely love to write this 🤤 This takes place before episode 7 btw, when the first order is looking for Skywalker but hasn’t captured Poe yet.

Rock Bottom ~Captain Phasma xFem Jedi!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, enemies to lovers, degrading kink, strap fucking, hate fucking, grey/questionable consent area…?, etc…

Enjoy (;

It was the time of the First Order. And they were desperate for Luke Skywalker.

Recently, there had been a tip off of an extremely powerful jedi hiding off on a deserted moon on the edge of the galaxy.

The tip off had said a jedi had shut down a First Order inspection of the moon with ease.

“Sir, we’re coming up on the moon.” a first order officer reported to Kylo Ren.

“Good. Captain, I want you to at my side.” Ren commanded, motioning towards Phasma.

“Yes, sir.” Phasma replied.

The first order’s ship landed on the deserted moon and began their search for Skywalker.

The nearby suns were cresting at high noon, when Ren tilted his head sensing a pull from the force.

“This way.” He directed the selective group of troopers.

The group made their way through a thick forest before coming to a clearing with a hut in the middle of it.

There was still smoke coming from the chimney…

“Captain, take a line of men to make sure he doesn’t escape. The rest of you, surround the hut.” Ren ordered

The men slowly crept up around the hut, as Phasma took some troopers to the edge of the forest.

Phasma watched as the men then invaded the hut with shouts.

But it was empty…

Suddenly, Phasma heard a snap of a twig behind her.

She turned around and caught a glimpse of something rustling away from her position.

“Lieutenant, keep the troopers in formation!” Phasma shouted as she ran off to follow the movement.

From a distance one could see the lieutenant terrified and explaining the situation to Kylo Ren, who was quick to follow the Captain.

As Phasma ran deeper into the woods, so did you.

You both could feel Ren on your heels.

You were a surviving jedi who had barely escaped with your life on multiple occasions now.

As you ran through the trees, you tripped.

You tripped and hit your head on a tree stump.

Hard.

You tried to get up and keep running but you were met with a blackened vision and immediate dizziness.

You could barely see a shimmering trooper running towards you.

And that’s when you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been the captive of Ren for a week now.

Or at least that was your guess.

You were held in a windowless room and tortured on the regular.

What you assumed to be every day, Ren would come in and try and extract the location of Skywalker from you.

But you couldn’t tell him.

You didn’t know.

After what you assumed to be three weeks, Ren was getting frustrated.

You had been trained explicitly for using the force as a defense for the mind and Ren couldn’t penetrate you.

One particular harsh day, Ren was going on for hours…

After awhile, Captain Phasma stepped in and requested Ren.

With a huff, Ren stepped back from you, who was on the border of unconsciousness.

“If you’d let me take a stab at her, I’m sure I could have her talking.”

You heard the Captain say in a muffled tone.

Then you vaguely recall seeing a frustrated Kylo Ren storm off.

You sighed.

You assumed that meant you were done for the day.

But the Captain then came in.

She then proceeded to undo you from the torture chair and drag you down the hallway to your cell.

She threw you on the ground and turned around to close and lock the door.

You tried to stifle a groan, but it slipped out anyway.

You heard Phasma chuckle.

You got yourself to lean against the cell wall and looked to find Phasma standing and leaning against the opposing wall.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you, jedi scum…” Phasma stated.

You said nothing but simply stared her down with your body shaking and your breathing labored.

Phasma then crouched down, mere inches away from your face, and you raised your head to meet her helmet.

“I’ll have you talking in days…” She taunted, although her tone was extremely serious.

You dryly laughed a bit, “What are you gonna do, torture me?”

At your words, her hand was on your neck and squeezing.

You whimpered at the touch, unable to stifle your sounds.

“You’re going to wish I tortured you…” She seethed.

She then let you go and left with a slam of the door.

You gasped for air.

On the other side, you could hear a muffled Phasma yelling, “No on is to go in there and no one is to give her anything!”

It was then that your body gave out on you and lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent the next few days in the dark with no one and no food and no water.

Finally, you heard the click of the door and light flooded into your cell, causing your cell lights to switch on as well.

You winced.

The door closed again and you heard the click of the lock.

Once your eyes had adjusted, you saw a tall woman in front of you.

Fuck was she stunning…

Your thoughts had started to spiral from all the depravity from the last few days.

She was wearing a basic training uniform, but she didn’t look like a basic first order trooper…

You could spend days imaging what she’d look like underneath that ill suited uniform…

The woman crouched down to your lied down figure, grabbing you by the chin and lifting you to your feet.

Successfully pinning you to the wall.

“Does my Jedi scum feel like talking now…?” Phasma jeered.

Oh Fuck…

It clicked for you now.

It was Phasma…

“Fuck you!” You spat in her face.

Phasma chuckled darkly.

“Just remember I gave you a way out…” She sneered with glimmering eyes.

Your stomache was a pit…

You knew very well what tension was between the two of you…

Without warning, Phasma flipped you around, caging your hands above your head with one hand and tilting her chin sideways with her other.

Your breathing was erratic.

Your pupils were blown wide.

“You want something scum?” Phasma taunted.

You gulped and stayed silent.

She then pressed her body against yours, squishing you against the wall.

Oh, OHhhHHh Fuck…

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your throat from the bulge you felt ghost grinding against your ass.

She was packing…

You were trying your best to take deep breaths, but your body was reacting against your will.

You found yourself pressing your ass against her bulge.

Phasma wickedly chuckled again, “Already so needy, slut?” she taunted you.

Your heart raced tripled at that nickname…

“No...” You gritted out, which both of you knew was an obvious lie…

“Really?” She mock-taunted, “So if I were to slip my finger in your cunt, your telling me that you wouldn’t be soaked and your walls wouldn’t flutter in desperation…”

You shuddered at her words and tried to stifle the moan that came up at the idea of someone touching you…

Especially her…

But before you could process anything else, you felt Phasmas fingers ghosting the back waistband of your pants.

“Why don’t we find out how much of a slut you really are, scum…” She lustfully jeered.

With that, she had hooked your pants with her finger and dropped them to the floor.

You gasped as the cold air hit your wobbly legs.

“Oh my, do I make your knees weak, slut…?” Phasma taunted.

You merely whimpered in response.

With that, you could feel Phasmas fingers slipping under your underwear and finding exactly what she had been looking for…

“Fuck jedi, you’re dripping…” she breathed out, her own voice faltering.

Your face went red with embarrassment and shame.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way…

And she knew that…

She was exploiting that…

You tried to squeeze your thighs together at that, but Phasma was quick to stop you by shoving your legs apart with her own.

She then removed her fingers from your soaked cunt, eliticing another whimper from you.

“Are you ready to talk yet, slut? Or do you need further encouragement…?” She jeered into your ear.

“Fuck you…!” You spat yet again.

Phasma chuckled and continued her taunts, “Seems like the slut needs to be taught a lesson…”

In seconds, Phasmas trousers and underwear were lowered so that now you could feel her strap right on your ass…

She moved your body in one swoop so that your ass was sticking out more and your legs were widened.

“Please…” you whimpered, at this point you were so conflicted you didn’t know what you were begging for…

With her available fingers, Phasma moved your underwear to the side and placed her dick right on your clit.

At this your hips bucked forward.

“Please God please…!” You cried out, half of you begging her to stop, the other half begging her to fuck you dumb…

“You asked for it, slut…” She breathed, her voice coated in lustful venom.

Her hips then thrusted her dick straight into your aching hole with no warning and no time to adjust.

It was impossible to contain your cries this time.

Phasma began to pound into from behind as you writhed and screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“OhHhh God right there…!!” you cried out as Phasma bottomed you out.

“That’s right. I am your God…” She hissed in your ear, while relentlessly hitting your g-spot without fail with every single thrust.

Your legs were trembling so badly now, they were threatening to collapse…

Your breathing was erratic and all over the fucking place…

As much as you hated to admit it, you were gonna fucking cum…

And Phasma knew it.

“Oh my, does my slut wanna cum…?” She taunted.

“I… please… don’t stop…!!” You spurted out your words, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Tears were now streaming down your eyes.

This was so wrong…

You could feel yourself about to tip over the edge and one last thrust from Phasma did it.

The orgasmic wave hit you like a brick wall…

Your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed against your captor.

Your screams were so out of control, Phasma had to quickly clasp your mouth shut.

After a minute, Phasma pulled out of you and unclasped her hands from your mouth, and you immediately collapsed on the floor, panting like a fucking dog and your mind reeling from what you had just done.

Phasma took the time to collect herself as well, the silence being a pleasantry for both of you.

You were the one who broke it.

“I don’t know where Skywalker is…” you whispered, looking up to your captor with a tear stained face.

Phasma met your gaze and lightly chuckled.

“I believe you.”

[sithlordsae]

& my warrior.

[the-tomato-patch]

Fluffyfebruary - Prompt 1: Snow

Fandom: SW:TOR ( Star War: The Old Republic )

Pairing: GN! Reader x Lord Scourge

Written for: @fluffyfebruary

Tags: Fluff without plot, potential ooc, cloak sharing?

You weren't aware that it snowed on Odesson. Granted it was the first year you were actually spending a proper winter here since joining the Alliance, but to be fair, your duties hadn't required you to give this world much attention. There hadn't been the slightest white dusting in your line of sight since your arrival, and maybe not for years before that either. Who knew. Who could possibly recall the last time it snowed on Odesson— the answer not being you. What with one catastrophe to the next, you couldn't have afforded the time to wonder. And evidently, neither could the Alliance, as the kriffing heat was busted too.

Today heavy clouds carried fat flakes of snow which fell upon the planet and collected where it lay. While Odesson could handle a light sprinkle, the lack of cold weather gear or warm clothes to bundle in left you feeling less prepared to meet it than normal. Like a protective shell, you wrapped your hands inside the excess material of your sleeves around your wrists. You shivered while pulling the collar higher up the sides of your neck and drew the hood over your head in the hope it would trap more heat.

The meager ensemble was the most suitable clothing you could dig out of your closet, though. And it would be some time before you could seek other, more sufficient outfits to get yourself through the rest of the season. Kriff it all, you might be in for an unfortunate, freezing week or three. It's not like you didn't deserve such hardships in the least, but did it have to be so blasted cold?

As you marched from the exterior of the base, your head was down in hopes the additional fabric over your face could block the bitter gusts which swept the open corridor. The icy needles were strong enough to make tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as they stung into your cheeks. Your breath danced out of your mouth and nose in a cloud of white fog.

"Take my cloak." A shadow stepped into your path, startling your gaze to lift, "You're cold."

You gawked, still reeling at his offer, when the dark lord returned your stare. His intense red pupils seemed to search your very soul. That and he'd spoken to you of his own accord— surely a strange day. Perhaps, a trick. No, it has to be. Still, you nodded an acceptance as the Sith stood tall and began to remove the swath of his cloak from his broad shoulders. He was so quick in response, a surprised gasp tumbled out of you when a newfound heat hit your chest in the most delightful way.

The shock of warmth rushed across your body, banishing some of the frost which clung to your bones. You gulped, reminded then how easily Lord Scourge was capable of killing. You knew the former emperor's Wrath had no ill intentions now, but his imposing figure was enough to make a chill run up the length of your spine. "I know the Alliance's current facilities are somewhat subpar—" he drew the edges of his black cloak around your shoulders a little tighter— "but perhaps, we can fix that."

With the air of superiority Scourge typically held, and the dark power of a Sith always laced in his veins, it had taken a moment to understand just how Lord Scourge wasn't completely immune to the harsh winds himself. Now, without his cloak, the Sith wore the thin, yet heavy weight, of his armor. In all the time you'd known Lord Scourge, he appeared unperturbed by many things and never acknowledged such discomforts or weaknesses. Had he merely pushed them aside? Or was the fact that this is something which couldn't be avoided making the thought all the more urgent in your mind.

Either way, the fact that he'd seen the cold rattle you so easily and had willingly removed the protective cover he could've kept over his own body, left you grateful.

You did the best you could not to take notice of his unusual softness. Though you had come to be familiar with this side of him as well since befriending him, the smallest parts of him were always easier to pick up on than others. Maybe that's why he doesn't share his kindnesses and generous moods so openly. Everyone's got to start somewhere, and it could prove awkward and clumsy if he went about it in full. As awkward and clumsy as he once made his introductions, for sure. And he already felt uncomfortable at times. But how lovely and endearing it was to learn a part of his heart you never thought would reveal itself.

"Thank you, Scourge," you said with an appreciative smile in place.

The glum attitude had suddenly shed itself, leaving a newfound appreciation in its place. You swallowed another cold shudder and hoped the deep hood of his cloak would do its job and hide some of your blushing.

It may or may not. It couldn't be avoided— not the affection.

"It is nothing," the Sith uttered with a curt bow of his head.

You barely managed to follow his step, Scourge didn't slow his stride and even quickened it. Once you had fallen into stride, it didn't take long for your gait to catch up with his, though the angle of his pace took you somewhere else entirely, forcing you to study the length of his arm. You ran a slow eye along his sinewed, nearly perfect build. When a pang of self-consciousness seized your confidence, you lifted the line of your sights and struggled to be free of the temptation to gaze his way.

Then Scourge would pass a subtle glance at you. It must have been the lingering shivers from the cold because every time you glanced his way, it was like lightning shooting straight up the length of your spine.

Stars. Stop it, he's only offering you a cloak.

Scourge looked back again to offer you a curious eye. His attention shifted your way, and when he opened his mouth to speak, a ping on his holocomm went off.

You never got the chance to discover his intentions, or even why he was interested to ask, the ring of his holocomm brought all those answers to a crashing halt. With a displeased hum, Scourge took the time to answer, turning a way for privacy. When the holo communication finally ended, a fresh sigh had the Sith returning his gaze to you, but when the inevitable happened, Scourge's footsteps also came to a standstill.

"I'm needed. You would do best to hurry and remain indoors," the Sith stated. He tilted his head as the contemplation of words danced behind his eyes. But they remained unsaid. You reached around to take the cloak from your shoulders, but his hand paused your efforts to return it. "Do not forget to hold onto my cloak," Scourge muttered.

The sith stepped aside to create a wider gap between the two of you. His ruby eyes latched onto your person. Scourge gave you an amiable, comforting nod. You smiled a faint grin in kind. "Keep warm."

"You, too," you muttered. Scourge bowed his head and turned, striding away.

[danwhobrowses]

Ahsoka Eps 1 & 2 Spoilers Out of Context

more in-depth discussion in the tags

[rexscanonwife]

Idk how yall feel about those ai song covers (personally I think they're the ONLY valid use of ai) and someone made one for a B1 Battle Droid and made it sing Fireflies and

I haven't talked about it much but I always thought it'd be funny if Brea had a battle droid she reprogrammed to be on the side of the Republic to use for things like spying and such and sometimes when the radio is on the fritz in her ship or Kep is feeling a bit sick from travel she makes it sing for them 😂😂 plus it'll definitely be programmed to keep its old personality so it's probably like "I used to be a commander of the most elite droid battalion!" And she's like "yeah, yeah, now SING!" And also it's name is G-1ZM0

[momojedi]

lets go guys! happy october <3

pick any star wars character & emoji and I'll write you a cute imagine of them !!

Things to Do in October: Starters

Send me a symbol for a thread or drabble in which the characters…

🎃 - carve Jack o’ Lanterns 🍁 - go on a scenic autumn walk 🔮 - see a fortune teller 👻 - tell ghost stories 👹 - go to a Halloween store 🕯 - perform a seance 🌽 - go through a corn maze 🌾 - go on a hayride 🌱 - go to a pumpkin patch 🍿 - have a Halloween movie marathon 🔪 - have a horror movie marathon 🍎 - go apple picking 🤡 - go to a haunted house attraction 🎭 - be actors at a haunted house attraction 🥕 - go to a farmer’s market 🔥 - have a bonfire 😱 - play scary slumber party games (Bloody Mary, the Midnight Game, etc…) 🎨 - do a craft  ☠ - visit a cemetery at night 🏈 - go to a football game 😈 - try on Halloween costumes 🌳 - take a drive to see the trees ⌛ - go to an antique store 👽 - talk about conspiracy theories 🌄 - go hiking ☔ - go on a rainy day walk 🥨 - make snacks for a party 🍬 - go shopping for Halloween candy 🍭 - hand out candy on Halloween 🥐 - cook some comfort food 😏 - play a scary prank 📚 - go to a library or bookstore 🎈 - plan a Halloween party together 🎉- attend a Halloween party together ☕ - go to a cozy cafe 📍 - sew homemade Halloween costumes 🎧 - listen to music together 🏚 - go poke around in a haunted location 🎪 - go to a creepy carnival 🏠 - sit at home by the fireside 🚂 - go on a scenic train ride 🍂 - rake leaves 🎫 - go on a tour of a spooky location 🍷 - go to a winery/brewery ⛺ - rent a cabin for the weekend 🏰 - spend the night in a spooky vacation spot

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 14}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Empire will cease at nothing to gain what it wants, but you're determined to fight back at any cost. Flanked by the renown Mandalorian and those he recruited for such a mission, you willingly walk into the trap set by someone from your past.

Word Count: 12k (i'm sensing a new pattern here....)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, canon typical fighting, canon typical language, minor character death (not detailed), star wars cursing, modern day cursing, violence, fighting, description of injuries, mentions of blood, references to life threatening injuries, poison, descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of ptsd, violent reactions to trauma, dangerous reactions to trauma, references to past sa (not detailed), fire, explosions, battle descriptions, use of reader inserts given name as a plot point, um there's a whole lot going on in this but please let me know if i missed anything?

A/N: um, hi, gonna drop this and run away. okay, bye, love you

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Darkness blanketed the landscape quickly, the sun setting and taking with it the sense of comfort.

In the dark, tensions seemed to rise. Bounty hunters used to working in solace and three individuals who had been on their own for as long as they could remember out of self-preservation was not a good combination to put out in the already hard to traverse terrain of the lava flats. The amber glow of the lava was bright as it wound through the rough volcanic rock of the ground, split open into wide valleys in some places. The sound of it a constant clinking that hummed in your ears as it echoed across the open land. Akin to glass shards being tossed and tumbling together.

An errant thought of hunger led to the slaughter of a goat, one of many that had been seen across the sprawling landscape throughout the day’s travels. The remnants of it on a makeshift roasting spit above the crackling fire. You had opted out, choosing to stick to the dried fruit hidden away in the pouch attached to your thigh. Cara had tried to hide her knowing smile as you slid one into Din’s gloved hand and he lifted it underneath his helmet in the guise of adjusting it. But you had seen it, just as she had seen the small exchange.

Kuiil was quiet, taking his role of caretaker seriously as he sat on Din’s right, feeding small bites to ad’ika from the roasted meat.

“I guess the little bugger’s a carnivore.” Karga spoke up from his relaxed position to your left. He was half laying down on his side, one arm propping him up and a knee bent to help steady himself. Watching eyes taking in the odd gathering of people he had assembled around the campfire. “Never seen anything like it.”

He was contemplative for a second, humming before he spoke again.

“They were ready to pay a king’s ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.”

“And for you, lovely San.”

“It’s Sarad.” He’d barely gotten the last consonant of your name out before you quickly corrected him, not wanting it to be said aloud. It was risky enough that he knew it, had known it nearly as long as Din, but you didn’t trust it coming from his lips. You hardly wanted Din to use it, still conditioned to keep it a secret as close to your heart as possible, wary of it getting back to your mother, the people who already knew of your exact location and with whom you were now traveling with. Even using your self-appointed name, folded into your identity the second it had fallen from your once guardian could jeopardize your efforts to remain a shadow and go unnoticed. But the chances were more slim, less likely someone would take notice.

“Apologies,” He aimed a small smile your way, head knocking back to see you fully from his spot. “For the lovely Sarad…they were ready to decimate the town in order to search for you once they found out you had visited. The rumblings stirred by the mere hint of your presence were indeed very impressive. Is it true that you have a lightsaber?”

“The only way you’re gonna see it is when it’s drawn on you.”

“Ha-ha! Such vigor, I like it. You intrigue me, dear Sarad. But I’m sure there’s much more to know about you if you’ve managed to catch the attention of Mando here. He’s never taken on a traveling companion in the years I’ve known him. Must be something truly special.”

“Let’s go over the plan again.” Din directed the conversation away from you, not liking how much Karga wanted to engage with you. Wondering how long he had held onto your puck while he waiting for the Mandalorian to make his way back to Nevarro in between jobs, the once activated tracker and the holder of your scant personal information something he both regretted and thanked the Maker for ever having been privy to. More so the former, he would admit to you in the cover of darkness aboard the Crest.

“Alright, well, we both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him.”

“What’s the client’s name?” You interjected, warning bells beginning to wind up in your psyche. A low thrumming tone that was gaining volume as the conversation went on.

“Classified.”

“If I knew who it was, I could give you an idea if it’s going to be as simple as that. Most ranks that actively meet with those they’re trading with aren’t that high, they work as a front for the person who holds the power. The command and forces to hold up threats to ensure that deals get made in their favor.”

“Tell me about his reinforcements.” The visor was panned toward you, keeping you both in his line of sight. Unsure of how your interaction would play out, but knowing how Karga was, he worried for the man picking at unseen wounds and soft spots you kept hidden from people well. He could see them in you, picked up on them in the time he had spent with you. The conversations you both shared and the confessions given to him with trusting and willing lips.

“They’re all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they’ll scatter.”

“And what if they don’t?” Cara looked to you, eyes catching your own in the glint of the firelight, doubtful frown marring her beautiful features that you tried not to mirror. But it was true, they wouldn’t scatter. It was never that simple with the Empire, ruling and controlling not only with the promise of monetary compensation but the threat of violence and decimation of any who defies them.

“They will.” Karga pushed, not knowing exactly what he was dealing with and unprepared in the most worrisome of ways in how he’s concocted his plan. As if he were dealing with members of the Guild and not an once galaxy wide regime clinging to power as people believed. But it was alive and well, in some pockets and this happened to be one of them flourishing on Nevarro.

“That’s not good enough.” Din looked across from you toward the still relaxed and half lounging man. “If Sarad has intimate knowledge of how they operate, we need to heed her words.”

“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me, I barely trust you. You nearly landed a kill shot when I saw you last. But her? Mando, she could be playing us both and we wouldn’t even know it. Just trying to get her own intel to figure out how to play us all against each other and reap her own rewards from the rubble.”

“Insinuating that might as well be your resignation on this whole kriffing thing.” Cara barked, causing the others around the fire to jump. “She has more at stake here than any of us, having been forced to work with them in the past.”

“It’s alright cyar’ika. I’m used to people not trusting me.”

“If, for argument’s sake, a few of them don’t realize that I’m their best path for alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, and one of their own ranks that has managed to break away will cut down anyone who bucks.” He sat up completely, motioned to each person he was talking about. Confident, self-assured, cocky. And oh, so wrong.

“How many will there be?”

“No more than four.”

“Bantha shit.” For all the bristle and heat in your words, you looked collected. But Din caught the way your eyes glinted as you sat between them, and it could only be compared to the way they had done back on the ship when Karga’s transmission had played. The discussion that resulted from it stirring something inside of you that despite being aware of it and doing your best to tamp down, was manifesting in ways the Mandalorian was picking up on. And it worried him, your whispered words of your history echoing in his mind.

White sabers have been purified.

Din’s hand was discreet as it brushed up against your own, the plate of beskar protecting the back of his hand cool against the tips of your exposed fingers. With a small huff, you tangled them with his own and settled down further in your spot. Comforted that the cover of night would shield the contact from those around you, even with their aided vision should they have the mechanics for night vision in their goggles, resting atop their heads as they sat across from you. The conversation quickly dissolving into an argument, one that you nor Karga surely had the energy for.

“Are you questioning my intel?”

“I’m calling a bluff when I see one. There is absolutely no reason why a quarry of ad’ika’s caliber would only warrant four.”

“He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. I’m beginning to think it would be best if we were to tie this one up and make it look like a true capture. Trust me.” He continued on as he stood, wiping his gloves on his pants to ride them of dirt. He was about to open his mouth to say more genuinely placed words of encouragement when an animalistic screech pierced the air and the flap of giant leathery wings of a beast swooped low and claws swiped at his arm.

His scream spurred everyone to scramble into motion.

It was chaos, the haunting sounds of their wings bringing them low to swipe at any weakness in your group it could find. Din bent to activate the closure of ad’ika’s pod, sealing him in safely to avoid him getting targeted. You were turning with your own blaster raised high and rushing behind Kuiil as he tried to ward off the creatures from taking one of the blurrgs.

When it had been successful, you turned to Din with the question of direction on the tip of your tongue.

Din’s hands were steady as he fired on the imposing figure closing in on you both, as you felt the swoop of giant wings behind you, and you tried to reach out for him with a call of his name. Panic making you forget that it was a secret just between the two of you, the fear of being torn apart spurring it from your lips.

A snarl fell from your lips right after his name as you felt massive claws grasp the fabric of your cloak and lift you up from the ground.

The snarl turned into a shriek of your own as the claws ripped through your clothing and dug into the skin of your shoulders, carrying you off into the air.

Legs swinging as you struggled to maneuver in the tight grip the creature had clamped over your shoulders as you tried to shield the pod ad’ika had hidden himself in. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was safe inside of it if they had still managed to pluck it up from between everyone. Wind whipped around you as you tried to gather your bearings, eyes stinging as dust and dirt whirled up all around you. The dark landscape dizzying as it lit up with blaster fire and the glint of it off the armor everyone donned and the beasts’ bodies.

You took a breath, trying to settle your overworking mind when it decided to recall the way it felt the last time it had been flung and lifted into the air. But that was different, this wasn’t an explosion knocking you off your feet and sending you sprawling a great distance from where you had been. This wasn’t the nightmares or memories that plagued you endlessly. This was a creature that had seen an opportunity for an easy meal and you had to focus and get out of it.

Faintly, you heard you name shouted, a rough and angry sounding thing echoing behind you. It fueled you, pushing you to reach up despite the claws digging in your shoulders, ripping through the layers of your cloak and clothing, scrabbling on the smooth expanse of the chainmail you had donned for the excursion. But still, it sunk in between the rungs of metal, stronger than the material and pierced skin despite the protection.

Massive leather wings flapped above you, wind whipping up and disorienting you as you felt gravity lurch. It was hauling you, taking you higher and away from the conflict. You worried just how far it could travel and tried to orient yourself before it was too late.

Hands scratching into the thick skin of the creature’s feet, you stabbed a knife deep into the joint. An ear-piercing shriek had you flinching, ears ringing as you felt it release you from that foot’s hold. The other clutched at you tightly, holding fast and digging its claws in even more. You shouted out in pain, trying to pull yourself up by the grip you managed to get on it, but the remaining claws only dug deeper into your skin.

Grunting as you let your body sag, you reached into your pouch for the saber hidden inside. You braced yourself, taking in the heights that the creature had flown to and mentally prepared for the fall. A deep breath centered your focus before you engaged the blade and swung up to sever the last leg holding tight to you.

“Mesh’la!” Din’s voice crackled forth from the comm link built into your vambrace. You didn’t stir, body aching and fire coursing through your veins as the poison from the creature wound its way into your system entirely. Your breathing was labored, a slow push and pull of too hot air as you had collapsed alongside a flowing river of lava. “They’re poisonous.”

“C-copy that,” You stuttered out, voice waning as you tried not to succumb to the fire burning you from the inside out. Laid out in the middle of the vast open planes, the dead carcass of the beast that had tried to pluck you up lay in a heap not too far.

“I can’t see you even with my helmet’s range, are you okay?”

“Claws, dug into my shoul-shoulders.” Breathing was becoming too hard, a wheezing wrapped around your words, making them raspy and hard to pick apart.

“Dank Ferrick. You have a med pack with you?” 

“Won’t work on the poison, will only slow- slow it down. It burns.” You slurred, body not listening as you tried to shift it, rocks and gravel digging uncomfortably into your hip and ribs as you lay sprawled on your side. You moaned out, unable to stop the effect it was having on your tone. “Kriff, it burns.”

“Mesh’la, ad’ika, he’s-“ Static took over his connection, a cacophony of sounds filtering in from the other side, from where he must still be back at the make shift camp. “He’s healing Karga.”

“Mirdala ad'ika.  Kaysh's bid jate,” You tried to breath in, but it only resulted in a harsher wheeze, pain striking long down the entirety of your chest. “N-ner kar'ta, ni liser't sur'ar. Ni liser't nari”

Clever boy. He’s so good. M-my heart, I can’t concentrate. I can’t move.

“Ni liser't haa'taylir gar. Enteyor cuyir too chaaj'yc.  Mesh'la, ni'm bid Ni ceta. Gedet'ye, kebbur at taylir bat.  Ni'll yaimpar at te Crest, Ni'll mar'eyir gar.”

I can’t see you, too far. Mesh’la, I’m so sorry. Please, try to hold on. I’ll get the Crest. I’ll find you.

You could hear him rustling around, gathering his things and no doubt scooping ad’ika’s small form up and securing him in his pod. Cara’s voice floated through the speaker, too distant for your tunneled ears to hear but her tone was distressed. No doubt picking up on the rising panic you could feel in Din even from the distance, so connected to him you already were.

An argument seemed to break out, voices filtering over the line in a jumble. A blaster was fired and then silence.

“Nayc, ner kar'ta.  Te aka. Gedet'ye, sur'ar bat te aka. Par ad'ika.”

No, my heart. The mission. Please concentrate on the mission. For ad’ika.

“Mesh’la…” He was torn, you could tell by the bated breath sparking static through the line, doubly so from his modulator beforehand. But he had to keep on the task at hand, he had made a decision, he had to stick to it and see it through. You would be okay, you managed to say over the line, fingers tingling as they began to reach for your shoulders. It was dark save for the ethereal glowing of the lava that flowed all around you, the sound of it like broken glass tumbling a hum in the back of your mind.

“I’m going to try to heal it, but…” You winced, a heavy exhale as the tips of your fingers gently prodded the torn fabric and broken metal had been meant to protect you. You closed your eyes to focus, pulling on the wisps of the Force all around you.

“You’ll lose consciousness, it’s not safe.”

“Safer than letting the poison take, I’ll find you, ner kar’ta. I’ll find you in the town.” You managed to get the words out, though they were weak and barely audible over the open line.

“Promise me.” He demanded, though his tone was anything but harsh, it sounded strained, quiet, pulled from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t respond, mind scrambled as you forced yourself to focus. The injuries causing you to warble out a pathetic sound as they began to heal in rapid time. The pain cascaded down your body, the poison being cured in your veins lighting you up. Black edged your vision, clouded your unseeing eyes before it took over completely, your exhausted mind going blank as unconsciousness took over.

“You’re quieter than usual.” Cara tried to break the silence. It wasn’t tense nor uncomfortable, it just was and it was beginning to get to her.

“I have nothing to say.” Din’s modulator didn’t give away the tension he was carrying in every nerve of his body. Thoughts on a loop, mind replaying the events of the night before.

“I know, I’m worried too, but…she’s strong. She can take care of herself.”

“Not if she’s unconscious. Using whatever it is, the- Force, she calls it, takes its toll. Tires her out, much like the child.”

“He’s been more vocal since last night, doesn’t seem to affect him the same way.”

“He’s fighting sleep, he’s probably trying to reach out to her.” Ad’ika had indeed been agitated since the attack last night, constantly shifting when his eyes weren’t closed in obvious meditation. But he would always huff and return to fidgeting after trying to focus himself.

“I thought he didn’t talk?” She turned to pin him with a raised eyebrow, unsure if he had misspoken or she had misheard him.

“She tried to explain it to me once, but to be honest, I didn’t understand it. She said it’s like…hearing another’s thoughts in your own mind. Can relay emotions, feelings, words, even memories and visions if one concentrates hard enough.”

“And you think he’s trying to reach out to her? That’s why he won’t give in to sleep?”

“Yes. He’s attached to her, they have a bond that…means something, it’s important. Two individuals from the same background reunited. ”

“Mando…he’s bonded with you too. He knows you’re doing everything you can to protect him, saved him from the Imps once already. Kriff, you’re walking into a trap for him. All to ensure that he can no longer be afraid.”

“Here we are.” Karga announced as they approached the door leading into the cantina that acted as a basis for Guild operation. Din deliberately dragged his foot as he stepped up, making a show of stumbling in his cuffs as Karga’s arm wrapped right around his own to guide him into the space. “You see? Four.”

Din seethed as the client from before came into view, standing from his seat tucked into a booth. All he could think was:

Is this one of the men who manipulated you into serving them?

Was he one of the men who forced you to do their bidding and help with research?

Take your blood and anything else he wanted from you by force?

Torture and taunt you to the point that you gave into those feelings and allowed for your powers to become tainted as you had confessed to him?

Was this one of the men who had you waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with echoes of screams on your lips?

“Look what I brought you. As promised.”

“What exquisite craftmanship.” The man reverently ran the back of his hand over the beskar cuirass that decorated Din’s chest, up toward the helmet he had been wearing since he had sworn the Creed. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. I am relieved you do not have any scorch marks from the blade of such a violent woman with whom you’ve taken for your own as the child. She has a tendency to strike those down who command her. But yet, I do not see her present. What became of her?”

“She was taken by a reptavian when our camp was attacked during our travels here.”

“Shame, we could’ve used a specimen such as herself once again.”

Din bristled internally at the way the man prattled on about you as if you were a thing, something to own and control and take from.

“Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?”

“I would be obliged.” Karga bowed his head slightly, trying to play into his natural sense of self.

“Please sit.” The man observed them as they situated themselves across from him. Taking in the way Din was still such a formidable visage even cuffed and captured. Speaking, his tone gave way to the insidious notions and rhetoric that he had sworn himself to, tried to carry out in every action he could. His belief in the Empire and what they stood for blinding in its intensity.

“It is a shame that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos. I would like to see the baby.”

“It is asleep.”

“We all will be quiet.” He leaned in closer, one arm outstretched outward. “Open the pram.”

Radio chatter cut the tension, a storm trooper sidling up to the table to relay something to the man who had just prattled on about power and the imposition of rule he worked for and aided in controlling towns, cities, lives.

“Don’t think me to be rude. I must take this call.”

“Give me the blaster.” Din spoke as lowly as he could, instincts telling him the situation was about to shift.

“You get one shot.” Karga swiftly handed it back to him underneath the cover of the table, Cara stepping closer to hear what they were saying and offer her own worries.

“This is bad. You said four. Sarad was right.”

“Well, there are more and she was right. What can I tell you?”

From across the room, Din could hear the hushed conversation the man was having, helmet aiding him and allowing for most of it to be as clear as if he was beside them.

“Have they brought the child and the woman?”

“The woman was lost to a creature native to the lava flats. But the child, yes they have. Currently, it is sleeping.”

“You may want to check again. There are reports of troopers being taken out on the outskirts of town.”

Din felt his heart thud at the words, relief flooding him like adrenaline did when he closed in on a target after tracking them down. You were okay, you had made it to the town. You were doing your best to take out the threat where you could, most likely silently or maybe even outwardly cursing Karga’s flimsy answer of ‘four’ as you efficiently took down as many as that with each move throughout the city streets. A smirk quirked the armored man’s lips as he pictured you mumbling about it quietly as you struck your saber and cut down unsuspecting soldiers standing at guard points.

Suddenly a blaster bolt broke through the window, shattering the glass above the bar and hitting the client square in the chest. His body slumped to the ground as bolts rained in through the window in fast succession.

Amidst the chaos, a figure slipped in through a side door, the telltale hum of your light saber blocking the fired shots and they neared where Din and the others had sought safety. A storm trooper approached, dodging the hits as they came through and fired a few of their own toward the approaching figure.

But you cut them down with a swing of your blade to their middle, searing through the armor easily and getting to the bowels of the person underneath. With a gurgle and spray of blood that trickled in thick drips down beneath their helmet, they fell to the ground.

Everything stilled.

An ominous line of black armored figures could be seen through the now thoroughly broken window, ash from the concrete of the decimated building bloomed up into the air.

“Mesh’la, we overheard you were taking out soldiers on the comm line, good job.” He nodded towards you, his entire body tense as the situation dissolved far too quickly to get a handle on it. As soon as you were safely in

“Anything to help, you know that, burc’ya.” You couldn’t bring yourself to use the nickname you had hazily recalled using with him over your personal comm link the night before. It had been too forward of you. Foolish to display such strong emotions, despite the serious conversation all those rotations ago when he committed himself to you with the intention of courtship. Too real and entirely daunting to feel so completely and all-encompassing for a man that had once been tracking you on a commissioned job.

“But those ones are gonna be a little different. It took everything for me to take them out the last time I encountered them, ended up having to use a plasma grenade.” You nodded out the window, toward the line of black armored storm troopers. “They’re known as Death Troopers.”

As you spoke, the hush of an approaching vehicle could be heard as it wound its way in front of the building. A whole platoon of white armored soldiers spilling out and lining up in an organized ambush, waiting for the call to move.

“Four stormtroopers?” Cara spit to Karga, still hung up on the flimsy lie the man had tried to sell you all.

“This is bad.”

“Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet? Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Kriff, burc’ya, the transmission is coming in clear to my cuff. Lines have been hacked and set to be intercepted by every link within range.”

He turned to you, comm link still raised to the front of his helmet, his eyes heavy on you through the visor. All you could do was nod to your vambrace, where the transmission he had just spoke had rung out from on the lowest setting, the static feedback warbling out as he disengaged his open line. Something was said under his breath, too low for you to catch it but he continued on once the Ugnaught’s response finally crackled through.

“Yes!”

“Are you back to the ship yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!”

The roaring of a ship was loud, the distinct sound of it making the hair on the back of your neck rise up and goosebumps prickle on your skin. The humming of your saber became loud, crackling almost before it waned and then flared, the slightest tinge to the white lighting up your face. It went out as you lowered it, stepping closer to the window and out from your spot hidden behind a pillar. You were out in the open, visible clearly through the broken window and yet no shots were taken. The line of soldiers on the other side focused on you, weapons raised but made no move to shoot.

“Sarad, what are you doing?” Cara’s whisper was harsh, confusion and worry coloring her words as you focused entirely on the incoming TIE fighter. She shared a look with Din across the room, unsure of what to do.

He took one step to bridge the gap with a soft whisper of your name, hand lifted slightly as he prepared to rest it on your shoulder or wrap it around your waist and pull you to him, to safety. A blaster bolt was silent as it ricocheted off his cuirass, making him retreat out of sight once again, the sound drowned out by the TIE Fighter as it soared closer, beginning to descend. The sound of it gliding through the air branded into your synapses. Taunting you in your sleep, stealing your attention during the day when something too similar a key could be heard nearby.

“No.”

“What is it?”

“No!” You shouted out, saber blade springing to life and glowing a threatening red. Everyone’s eyes were on you, from the people behind you, trapped alongside you to the armored soldiers on the other side of the flimsy partition that the outside wall of the cantina was acting as. They were speaking into their comm links, relaying in real time what they were seeing with their own eyes to whoever had stationed them there. And you had an idea of exactly who it was.

“Mesh’la.” Din’s voice was muffled, blood roaring in your veins as your entire body lit up with adrenaline and overwhelmed your senses. His steps were quiet, though you could sense that he had moved closer, a hesitant hand outstretched toward you in a second attempt. No shots were fired this time, the ominous humming and glow of your weapon making the soldiers pinning you down rethink immediate fire.

“You didn’t say it was a Moff!” You whirled around and pinned Karga was a glare, debris and broken glassware lifting into the air around you as you approached the man with measured steps. Loose strands of your hair curling up with the same focused energy tingling all around you in tune with your ragged emotions. “You’ve led us to a trap that’s going to end up with all of us dead and me back in chains!”

“Let’s everybody just-“

“If you tell me to calm down, Maker, help me…” You rounded on Cara, brow furrowed in anger and eyes glinting. “This is bad, this is….Fuck!”

The bottles still on the shelves of the bar underneath the window to the disarrayed furniture rattled as you turned to Din, desperation seeping into your very nerves.

“We need to abandon this mission, it’s fruitless. Please. Now.”

“You have something I want.”

“No. No, no, no.” The chant was quiet, jaw clenching with the effort it was taking to reign yourself in. You scrambled to tamp down the rage boiling up inside you, filling you with negative feelings and the urge to strike out at any cost. Thoughts of revenge flitting around your mind as the man’s whose voice you last heard had been when you lost the person closest to you.

“Take this, please.” You thrusted the handle of your saber into one of Din’s gloved hands, holding it to his palm until his fingers curled around the metal. Memories of blood splatter, a damaged helmet, a lifeless body, debris from an explosion and smoke-filled air took over your senses. The tang of metallic blood, so much of it, made you dizzy though you know it was only a recollection it shifted something in you, something strong wrapping its tendrils around you and tightening its hold. “I-I can’t be trusted with it right now; the pull is too strong.”

“Who’s this guy?”

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not. Not all of you at least.”

Din was hesitant to take the weapon from you, to leave you at a disadvantage in the face of such an organized threat. But the desperation and terror in your eyes prompted him to wrap his fingers firmly around it and take it from your hold. When your shoulders lost tension and you breathed out a held breath with a heavy sigh, he knew he had made the right decision. Nodding to you as you took a few steps away from him, he tucked it into a rung of his belt and brough the comm link up. Another attempt to reach Kuill, static over the silent line.

“In a few moments, it will be mine.” The strong voice was easily projected, confident and sure in it’s words. The man to whom it belonged knew that he had the high ground. “It means more to me than you will ever know.”

Desperation was begging to wave off of the armored man beside you as he raised his voice, his need for a response spiking his anxiety and triggering your own. The lack of response from the Ugnaught was worrying, he wouldn’t simply ignore an attempt at communication. Something must be wrong. And then it hit you.  

Suddenly, you felt a pulse of the Force, legs buckling with the weight of it.

Already so much stronger as your emotions warred inside, allowing crevices for the dark pull of the Force to trickle in and bring the rotten, snubbed roots of it back to life.

“Din,” You whispered, reaching out to steady yourself only for your nails to rake across the pillar as you felt the heaviness settle all throughout your body, making your limbs impossible to control. You fell to the ground, looking up at the visor aimed at you with tears in your eyes. “They have him.”

“Is there another way out?” Cara demanded, needing to know how screwed you all were, if there was any hope of making a run for it.

“No, that’s it.” Karga seemed to look over the cantina, eyes sweeping over the debris and the expanse of walls that surrounded you.

“What about the sewers?” You suggested, voice tight through clenched teeth. At your words, Cara was up on her feet and moving away from the open bay of the broken window. She gathered up a massive blaster that had been abandoned, checking the levels on it and ensuring it was operable.

“The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers.” Din praised your thoughtful words, thinking back to how the covert had come to his rescue the last time he had been in the city. That you had managed to track them down and converse with them on his behalf, for his benefit. He activated a viewpoint on his helmet, visor scanning the room. He pointed to a space occupied by a booth, saying there was an entrance hidden behind it. “If we can get down there they can help us escape.”

“Yeah, sewers are good.” Cara opened fire on the grate, but the metal didn’t so much as creak or glow from the assault. Behind her, Din watched, hoping to kick out the plate of metal as soon as it was weak enough.  

When the harsh barrage from the massive gun didn’t cause the grate to yield, both of them turned to where you were trying to get back on your legs. Back pressed heavily to the pillar for support, your shaking hands did their best to help steady yourself.

“Mesh’la-”

“I can’t. I can’t use it right now, it’s not…it’s not a good idea.” You knew what he was asking, demanding of you in a last-ditch effort to find an escape. But it was risky, the power ebbing and flowing through you too uncertain and unpredictable to give into. You had given into it once before and it had taken everything from you, it had taken everything you had to overcome it and you thought you had managed to but that was proving to be a false narrative.

“We need you to!” Cara backed him up, telling you more plainly that the man had intended to.

“You don’t know what you’re asking!” You shouted back, temper flaring at your lack of control of yourself, weakness shining in the worst moment possible.

“C’mon, you’re the only hope we have of getting out of here.” She pleaded with you, words heavy exhales as she panted. The reality of the situation sinking further and further in as the seconds ticked on by and the E-Web was quickly assembled outside.

“I can’t!” Voice impossibly high and nearly hysterical, you could feel yourself shaking, limbs trembling as you tried to keep upright on them. The dark tendrils wrapped around your subconscious tightening and infecting your thoughts with motives of revenge and anger so strong you could feel sweat begin to bead along the back of your neck and in between your shoulder blades.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay, we’ll figure something else out.” Din appeased, not wanting to force you to do something you didn’t want. Not wanting to force you to use the very powers you were afraid of in that moment. Heeding your wishes to drop it, to not call attention to it as best he could.

“Like what! We’re all dead and she can prevent it!” Cara rounded from you and back to him, tongue sharp and words like knives as she aimed them at him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to hurt yourself, why are you asking it of me?” You snarled, eyes glinting as the anger at her question flared something hot and prickling inside of you. It wasn’t what you really felt, but it was being manipulated, the slight hurt of being asked something so significant in the wake of your denial, into something dangerous and cloying.

“Hurt?” They both turned to face away from the sealed grate, confusion and worry in both of their voices, Cara’s brow furrowed and a grimace twisting her features as she realized it wasn’t such a simple request she was demanding of you. You were holding yourself up against the pillar, entire body tense and teeth gritted as you nearly vibrated in your convulsions.

“I-I can’t control it right now, the pull is too strong, I can’t fight it.” You hung your head between your shoulders, palms flat on the pillar as you fought the power sparkling and crackling through your veins, almost painful in its ferocity. A bottle on the bar shelf shattered, vibrant blue liquor exploding into the air along with the thick glass. Another followed it, your limbs shaking as you tried to reign it in.

“You don’t have to, she doesn’t have to. If she says she can’t, then we move onto the next option.” Din was torn, he wanted to comfort you, take you into his arms and wrap his own around your shaking form but they needed to find a way to escape. He needed to lead everyone to safety, needed to ensure everyone saw the light of tomorrow.

“Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation. I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration. Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Tropper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model.”

Cara lowered the large weapon in her grip, disbelief at the exact parameters of her identity being prattled off obvious. She hadn’t been aware that anyone had been keeping tabs on her, let alone that closely and now she had been found here on this errant mission on an outer rim planet no one cared about. But that’s what he did, this man facing the broken window flanked by a line of black armored figures, white armored ones fanning out behind him in a sea of dizzying and formidable numbers. He found out everything about those he sought out and used it against them.

And he was about to expose you next. Knowing you from both personal and professional interactions, he was the one to deliver the ultimatum that resulted in your unwilling join up to the very cause that had tried to take you out as a child. 

“San of Kath, as the once esteemed Sith apprentice, can surely back up those claims with her own firsthand encounter with the same machinery which resulted in the death of her beloved Mandalorian guardian Akiz Noves. Whose surname she’s adapted in the wake of such a tragic event that could have been entirely prevented.

Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter who has taken her under his watch, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordinance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of a Thousand Tears. And I do thank you, graciously, for digging her out of whatever hole she had crawled into.”

At the announcement of his name, Din looked to the ground, thoughts firing and mind working as fast as it could. His name, Maker, his full name was now known to everyone on the planet, a dangerous thing for someone of his standing.

“I advise the disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end. Upon retrieval of her body, San will be taken back into custody and revived. To spend the rest of her days aiding in the research her blood will allow to flourish.”

“What do you propose?”

“Reasonable negotiation.”

“What assurance do you offer.

“If you’re asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand.” You were shaking your head, trying to fight off the ever present and growing darkness winding its way through your body. “The assurance I give is this, I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time, involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.

“I say we hear him out.” Karga suggested, not seeing another way to escape.

“The minute we open that door, we’re dead.” Cara countered, her own temper flaring as the severity of the situation weighed in her own body.

“We’re dead if we don’t.”

“At least out there we’ve got a shot.” She busied herself with checking the mechanics of her weapon, hoping that it was strong and charged enough to last her through a fight should one arise, bound to happen at moment’s notice.

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m a Rebel Shock Trooper. They’ll upload me to a Mind Flayer.”

“Those aren’t real. That was just wartime propaganda.”

“No. It wasn’t.” You admitted from your position kneeled on the ground behind a pillar. All eyes in the room fell to you, not even realizing you had crouched down in your internal struggle. You rose to your full height, shoulders rolling as you peered out to get a better look at the man begin to walk away, his cape flowing with the movement of his steps. You had seen the mechanics of the fabled flayer first hand, had been threatened with it far too many times to comfort her with a lie.

“What about you, Mando?” Questioning gaze turned to the man who was focused on you, on the way your fingers were twitching in your leather gloves. The way your legs were trembling and your breath was being shakily exhaled with every nearly panting intake.

“I know who he is. I’m sure you do too.” He nodded towards you, watching the way you couldn’t tear your eyes from the retreating figure.

“It’s Moff Gideon.” The announcement was heavy in the air, the name holding a weight to it as it was spoken aloud.

“No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes.” A nod of the woman’s head a dismissal.

“It’s him. He knew my name.” Din insisted, knowing he was right. Knowing that you were aware of who the man was as well.

“So? What does that prove?”

“I haven’t heard that name spoken since I was a child. With the…exception of Sarad seldom using it.”

Cara’s brow arched as she turned to you with a twitch of her lips. If the situation wasn’t so charged you were sure she would tease you over it.

“On Mandalore?”

“I was not born on Mandalore.”

“But you’re a Mandalorian.” The surprise in the older man’s voice made your heart flutter, keeping the darkness at bay as you realized how much Din trusted you to have shared so much about himself with you. Yes, you knew about the culture of his people, but his name, the snippets of his past. IT had all been given to you freely and with great care and trust.

“Mandalorian isn’t a race.”

“It’s a Creed.” He turned to look out the window, gauging the soldiers lined up and waiting, the sea of them going back as far as his helmet allowed him to see. “I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps. I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the purge. That’s how I know it’s him.” 

“That’s how he knows who we all are.”

“He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely. I was worried when the Ugnaught didn’t respond, but if they’d captured the kid, we’d already be dead. Mesh’la can you try to reach out and connect with him? I don’t want to ask it of you, but it’s important.”

“I already tried, I can’t feel him. He’s most likely in shock.”

He tried the comm link one last time, but it was nothing but static.

“They might have jammed the link, like she said.”

“If I were to-“ You didn’t face them, aware of how they were nearly spitting at each other behind your back, the charged atmosphere of the ravaged cantina getting to everyone.

“No.” Din cut you off, voice low and rumbling from him with a force he hadn’t used on you yet.

“We can’t trust him, he’s going to fire that thing on us no matter what we do.” Cara spoke, holding a handout to you, urging you not to turn yourself in hopes of a chance for them to get away, to escape the situation that seemed to be hopeless. She wasn’t sure if she would even be able to hold you back, but she would try. She would do whatever it took to get you to safety and away from the possibility of being taken back into the hands of those you had escaped. Feeling so strongly that you deserved better, that you needed her to help look out for you with the trust she had been given with hesitant words and bonding conversations after deeming her worthy of them.

“She’s right, he’s not going to hold to his word. Even if we give into what he wants.”

“He’s got ad’ika! At least if I turn myself in he won’t be alone, I can argue for our safety while in his custody.”

“You can’t.” the modulated words were hard, an edge to them.

“I’ve been a part of their regime before, maybe…maybe that still means something to them. If I’m willing to help them with whatever research their conduction or experiments they’re doing I can ensure ad’ika remains alive. If the last apprentice fell, if the last Sith fell, they- they need me. They need what I can do to enforce their return to power.”

“They would take you as a prisoner, you have a history of betraying them. There is no chance of this turning out how you’re thinking it will. Not this time.” That same edge coated the words, his urging you to see the fruitless attempt at your thinking of a way to sacrifice yourself for them.

“Willingness to contribute has to count for something.”

“It doesn’t and you know that.”

“He wants me, Din. He wants me alive. He wants ad’ika. But you, all of you, he’ll cast aside without a second thought. I can ensure your safety, barter for it with my concession.” You whirled around to face them, cape flipping up with the motion and flaring out behind you. You could sense how more than a few of the soldiers outside curled their fingers around the triggers of their blasters, nearly giving into the urge to fire.

“I won’t let you.” He growled out, voice striking you and overpowering the dark tint edging more and more over your mind and body.

“You-you don’t control me.” Your eyes met the dark visor that concealed his eyes, wanting for all the worlds in the galaxy to see them clearly. Look into them and let him know that while you had given parts of yourself to him, that he truly had no control over you. That it was all given to him, shared with him, that you had chosen to do so with the understanding that power over you was something he didn’t want. And that if he were to try and play on that, you wouldn’t let him get away with it. He must’ve read all of that and more in your intense gaze because he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders rolling as he felt the power emanating from you even across the space of the room.

“No, I don’t. But I will not be the reason you are taken back to a life you do not want, a life you ran from. I will not.”

Suddenly ad’ika’s cooing burst to life over the line.

Brightness flared in your chest, relief flooding you at the happy sounds of the precious being.

“Kuiil has been terminated.” The modulated voice of IG-11 came through the connection loud and clear, the sound of strong wind a harsh background noise. Din seemed frozen, body stiff and shoulders tense as he slowly brought the comm link up to the front of his helmet once more.

“What did you do?”

“I am fulfilling my base function.” The rather ominous statement didn’t settle well, fueling Din to growl into the communication, voice dark and holding a promised threat should anything befall the child at the hands of the droid.

“Which is?”

“To nurse and protect.”

An explosion further off in the city erupted, the attention of the soldiers out front diverted. Din approached you cautiously with your weapon held tight, the leather of his gloves crinkling as he went over the chances of something in his head. As he did so, Karga downed another shot from the bottle he had snuck closer to his hiding spot.

“I need you to try,” He pressed the handle to your palms, suddenly in front of you, mirroring your actions from earlier. You looked up into the visor with a furrowed brow, lips downturned as emotions flooded you. Fear, worry, anxiety, anger. “For ad’ika, you need to try and fight whatever it is you’re afraid of. For me.”

“What if I can’t? What if it takes over? I-I won’t be the same, I don’t want you to see me that way.”

“It’ll be okay, I’ll help in whatever way I can if that’sfoohouhad the case.” He leaned in and pressed the cool beskar of his helmet to your forehead, comforting you with the small motion in the only way he could at the moment. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips a thin line as you tried to take what he was offering and use it to help center yourself. “We need to fight our way out of here, it’s the only way.”

You brought a hand up to rest along the side of his helmet, palms sweaty despite the leather gloves you adorned. The action pulled you into his space, one of his own hands coming around to settle at your waist. A whispered acquiescence soft and only for the man pressed up against you.  You could feel the gaze of the other two people in the room focused on your embrace in fleeting moments as they realized the next move. You ignored them, trying to match Din’s even breathing and center yourself despite the pulsing darkness that had invaded your very being. 

He only pulled away when the sound of a speeder broke the stillness outside. Blaster fire filling the air.

It was IG-11, bursting into the scene with a pouch secured to it’s middle, small green ears peeking out from the opening. The droid jumped from the bike, firing not ceasing, allowing for the speeder to crash into a group of the clustered soldiers, taking them out in a small explosion. Din pulled you tighter against the front of his body, raising his blaster with the other as he tugged you behind a pillar. You stayed nestled close to him, his left arm over your shoulders and resting at the small of your back. With a look, you nodded, knowing it was now or never. The only chance of trying to escape.

“Cover me.” He announced to the room, aware that everyone else was on the same page.

He was a force the second he was out the door.

Cara laying fire for him to catch them off guard. You were right behind him, saber tight in your grip and glowing a faint red. But as soon as you laid it into the first rushing soldier it turned a bright white. The feeling of protection and fighting alongside Din keeping the twining darkness under control. Behind you, Karga brushed past you, knowing to flank his other side and spread out to cover as much ground as possible.

Rushing away, you found yourself surrounded by a few of the Death Troopers, the others of the faction circling around Din. He stumbled back as a bolt landed on his left pauldron. Allowing them to knock him off his feet completely, but you had to focus on yourself. You knew he was a strong fighter, had faith in his abilities and his determination.

It was chaos, the entire scene loud and bright with flashes of blaster bolts from every direction, steam and ash rising up from fallen bodies and hit buildings. The hum of your saber falling into the noise with ease as you wielded it effortlessly, taking out anyone who dared to step toward you.

When the echoing clang of IG-11 falling rang out, you turned just in time to see Din make a run toward the E-Web. He displayed his strength by lifting it from the base it was attached to and began to fire toward the cluster of armor that had targeted ad’ika’s charge.

You caught sight of a Death Trooper flanked by a few in white approach the door to the cantina, a grenade in their hand that they attached to the door. With a shout you reached out with a hand and flung them away, but the boom of the explosion was set in motion. Soldiers slunk into the now accessible building, garners a glance from Din and Karga both.

But your focus was on the figure of Moff Gideon, the man approaching the outskirts of the scene with his eyes solely trained on Din’s form. You flinched when rage and murderous intent bloomed harshly, only able to watch as the man landed a hit with his own blaster to the top of Din’s helmet. Causing the Mandalorian to grunt out in pain and lose his hold on the large weapon he had turned against those who intended to use it.

Your entire body was burning as you weaved your way through soldiers and fired shots toward the man, seeing the way that Din exposed completely. Picking up the weapon into his arms once again, Din turned it on the threatening figure of Gideon as he aimed his blaster directly at his target. Mere steps separated you when he changed the aim toward the charging dock for the weapon and fired.

You brought your arms up to shield your face from the explosion, debris and the roar of fire loud in your ears, causing them to ring.

You could only watch through the flames and smoke as the tall, broad figure of Din fall to the ground across the courtyard. The light of your saber harsh as you cut down one, two, three stormtroopers as they advanced on you even in the wake of the explosion. Gideon was hidden, form disappearing in the eruption of flames and smoke caused by the bolt of his blaster. Black armor a protective wall around him.

You kept turning back to Din, mind distracted when the beskar didn’t glint with his standing, motionless on the ground you shouted out with a hoarseness to your voice that bid no argument.

“Din!” You shouted, hoping the sound of your voice would rouse him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. Unconscious, injured, dead. Every thought focused on him as you felt a wave of energy and you directed it to throw the blur of white closing in on you away. The blade in your hand crackled, starting those approaching you, making them pause as they contemplated the threat you made. When it hummed with intensity, white diluting to red, some of them turned on their heels and retreated.

“Cara! Get him to safety!” You ordered, seeing her peeking out from the busted door, Karga close enough to help her by laying protective shots at those closing in on them. IG-11 was just behind them, the bag holding the child still secure around their middle. Just as they cleared the threshold, you swiped your right hand out and scattered the bodies following them with a wave of focused intent. Another wave of your hand had door closing behind them, thankful for the metal being able to withstand the explosion by sliding back into the crevice that protected it.

You were so focused on making sure they were protected that you didn’t sense the blade at the end of a staff hurling toward you until it was too late. You shouted out as it dug into your shoulder, the handle of your saber flying from your grip. But you recovered quickly, feeling the darkness flare inside of you. The saber flew back to you as you raised your hand and when it ignited once again, it was glowing a bright red. Crackling sounded harshly as you cut down every soldier that swarmed you.

Gideon watched on, commanding the Death Troopers to burn out the rest of your group from their hiding place.

“Stay with me, buddy.” Cara grunted, hauling Din’s broad form into the deepest part of the cantina, as far away from the window and cracks in the walls as possible. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“This is our only path out. Can you clear it?” Karga’s voice was hoarse, the dire turn of events beginning to wane on him. IG-11 heeded the command, following close behind the older man as he moved debris out of the way of the still sealed gate. He watched with glances as Cara laid Din’s body against a slab of wall that had fallen and crumbled, making sure he was propped up slightly.

“Stay with me,” She whispered to him, desperate for him to hear her though she wasn’t sure he could in the state he was in. She ignored the heated exchange of IG-11 threatening Karga over the child, focused completely on Din. Worry for you as she realized you hadn’t followed them in, that you were still out there in courtyard.

Panting suddenly burst from beneath the helmet, Din rousing from unconsciousness.

“Whe-where is she?” His voice was wrecked, barely able to make out the words from his throbbing head.

“She’s still taking some of them down, she’s making it easier for us to run if we can manage to get down into the sewers.” Cara tried her best to assure him, though she couldn’t school her face into a comforting expression. Blood trickled into one of her eyes from a cut caused by something that had flown up in the explosion.

“What col-color is her-“ His voice cut off in a harsh cough, throat constricting.

“She’s okay.”

“No,” He made a move to shove up from his position, but Cara placed a firm hand on his cuirass and pressed him back down as carefully as she could. “I need to help her.”

“Mando, no. You need to stay still until we can get you out of here.”

He fell silent, the only sound coming from him his wheezing breaths. Nearly rattling in the way he tried to gulp in any air that he could.

“I’m not gonna make it.” He admitted, turning his helmet from the partial view out the broken window and to the woman hovering beside him. “Go.”

“Shut up. You just got your bell rung. You’ll be fine.”

“Leave me.” Din insisted, not hearing her, not able to hear her through the pain washing over him and the throbbing in his head. It was hard to concentrate, but he had to try. Let her know, let you know that they’re safety was the most important thing now. “Get her and go.”

Cara lifted her hand from where she was trying to help support shoulders, blood thick over her fingers as it had trickled down from beneath the helmet. She was suddenly reaching for the helmet with both hands, knowing it was risky but wanting to ensure she did everything in her power to save the man in front of her.

“I’m gonna need to take this thing off.”

“No!” Din choked out, hands flying up to grip the woman’s wrists tight and prevent her from lifting it, from seeing the damage inflicted on him. “You get her and you leave me.”

“She’s not going to leave you and neither am I!”

“You make sure ad’ika is safe, that Sarad is safe.” He let go of her wrists, pushing them weakly away from him, aware that the attention of the child and Karga was on them both faintly. “She has – a pendant of mine. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, have her show it to them. You tell them it’s from Din Djarin. She’ll know what else to say.”

“We can make it.” Cara shifted atop her bent legs, anxious as to why you hadn’t reconvened with them yet. But she felt the pressure to move, the need to move. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m not gonna make it and you know it.” His voice was barely a wheeze, carrying his words in a shaky exhale.

Cara was about to haul him up into her arms once again when flames erupted through the open bay of the window, loud and hissing as they bloomed from the handled flamethrower in a soldier’s hands. It was faint, but a shout from you could be heard beyond the building. It urged the child to move toward his guardian.

With the cantina now enflamed, the heat of it cloistering, IG-11 quickly worked on getting the grate broken down for them to slip into the underground tunnels. Din, similarly, realized if you had been able to return, you would’ve.

“You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death.” As he said it, Din felt a heaviness in his heart that he wouldn’t get to see you one last time. A silent thanks to the Maker for having chosen to hold you to him not even an hour ago before the fighting broke out. He wished for the feel of your hands on his face, the weight of you leaning into him, the look in your eyes as you gazed into the visor. Just one last time, but the universe was cruel. Stealing him of a last moment with you. “This is the Way.”

As the tip of the flamethrower forced it’s way through the broken door, Cara laid herself over Din, protecting him however she could as a plume of flames was aimed at them. The soldier wielding the weapon barged into the room on heavy steps, raising it to aim at them again, closer and no doubt intending to harm them from such a close range.

But the child. He harnessed what little energy he had from the long stressful night, the too hectic and emotional day and stood to his full stature. He raised his hands as he had seen you do countless times, focusing on the energy around him like you tried to teach him.

The flames inches closer but as they nearly licked at their bodies, air dry and hard to breath in, they stalled. Held at bay as the child maintained his focus and controlled the energy in the very air to prevent them from moving any closer. With a flip of his hands, the soldier was flung back as he tried to mimic the ways in which you would toss people. The flamethrower erupted, unable to handle the combustion of energy thrown its way. As soon as the threat was taken care of, the child plopped down, exhausted. A faint whine leaving him as he looked over to Din, making sure he had done a good job in protecting him.

You were flying into the building the second the explosion had ceased, cape billowing behind you as you slid on your knees beside him, nearly toppling over Din’s collapsed and still form in the process. Cara barely managed to sidestep you, caught off guard by how you nearly threw yourself at the man she had been trying to tend to through the wall of flames. She stood, keeping an eye out the window and crumbling walls in case anyone dared to try and breach the building again.

“Din! I saw you go down, I thought…” You didn’t dare press yourself to him, fear of hurting him further at the front of your mind as you took in the soaked fabric of his cowl and cape around his neck and shoulders. It was saturated with dark, viscous blood. Panic stricken, you reach for his shoulders, the beskar of his pauldrons still cool to the touch despite the fire raging in pockets all around the room.

“San.” He wheezed out, unable to believe that you were right there in front of him. The errant thought of dread as he realized you would be present to watch him die. That you would carry it with you the rest of your own life. And for that, he had regrets. But not in meeting you, not in getting to know you, for you to allow him that privilege.  

“Ner kar’ta, please. We need to see how bad the damage is.” You lifted your hands and placed them on the sides of his helmet, tears burning in the backs of your eyes.

“N-no.” His own hands were trembling as he lifted them to wrap around your own and bring them down to rest atop his chest, the cuirass rising and falling slowly with his wheezing breaths. “Take the pendant, find the covert. Tell them I sent you, tell them about Akiz and ad’ika.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.” They were weak, barely sounding from you as he leaned down to rest your forehead atop his hands holding your own. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to. Protect ad’ika, protect yourself. Please, live.”

“Din, I can’t. I can’t leave you. Ner kar’ta, you don’t know what you’re asking.” Lifting your head back up, you tried to look into the visor, vision blurring, the tears finally falling from your lashes to rain hot down your cheeks. He lifted a gloved hand to wipe them from you, his movements weak and stilted. He didn’t surge up nor did he pull you closer toward him, but he cupped the side of your face and whispered to you.

“Ner kar’ta, that’s a new nickname.”

“It’s true.” You whispered back, trying to focus on the sound of his voice, even in its wrecked and wheezing state, devoting it to your memory. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to the cool beskar of his helmet, eyes clenching shut. “Din, please, let me heal you.”

“You can’t, it’ll take all of your strength and you need it to get ad’ika to safety.”

“Din…”

The collapse of part of the ceiling of the enflamed building made you jump, his own body jostling as it caused the ground to rumble all throughout what was left of the building.

“Go!” His voice was rasping, the volume of his demand cutting through his throat as it projected. His hands pushed you away weakly, a last ditch effort for him to get to you leave him. With tears in your eyes you let him use what strength he had left and shifted your body away from him. Knees creaking with the effort to force yourself to stand, to move away from the man that had come to mean so much to you. To leave him, bloodied and beaten on the verge of death in the wreckage of a building that would become his final resting place.

He coughed wetly, the volume of his voice hurting and straining him even more.

“Come on! It’s open, let’s go!” Karga shouted, not wanting to drag out the moment any longer lest more soldiers find a way through the flames. He disappeared down into the darkness beyond the grate. The droid standing guard on the outside of it.

Cara scooped up the child, ensuring he was safe in her hold before she followed after them. Giving you a moment alone with Din, hoping you would follow behind her. You watched her, ensuring she made it down through the grate with little trouble. Soft words had you wiping back to Din, his hands still gripping your own though his strength was nearly gone.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. Gedet'ye, slanar.”

I love you. Please, go.

His words were a whispered gift, one of the last things he hoped he could provide for you. The phrase cradled in the caress of his low voice, heard over the roaring flames of the fire and the crumbling concrete of the building that slowly closed collapsed around you both. He slid his hands from around yours, urging you to move. It took all of your strength to leave him behind, feeling the shape he had imbedded into your heart aching with every step toward the entrance into the underground tunnels. With a heaving sigh, you entered into the darkness, brows furrowing and expression morphing to school your emotions. Though the tears continued to fall freely.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life

dividers by the lovely: @/saradika || saradika-graphics

[faretheeoscar]

FICS MASTERLIST

Back to General Master list

🔞NSFW

🎄Special

✨SFW

Marc Spector:

🔞Red Wings Marc Spector x f!Reader

✨Turning Frowns Marc Spector x Gn!Reader

Steven Grant:

🔞Intrusive Thoughts Steven Grant x f!Reader

✨But Steven I love him Swiftie!Steven Grant HC + Drawing (Warnings: Self Insert)

Jake Lockley:

🔞Lesson Learned Jake Lockley x f!Reader

Star Wars:

🎄Life Day Poe Dameron x Gn!Reader

Scenes of a Marriage:

🔞Sweet lies Jonatan Levy x f!reader

Triple Frontier

🎄Imperfectly, Perfect Christmas Santiago Garcia x gn!reader

🔞Sparring Sessions Santiago Garcia x Francisco Morales for the triplefrontier-anniversary event

Ex Machina

✨143

Needy Miguel series:

🔞Needy Miguel Miguel Ohara x SpiderFem

🔞Needy Miguel pt.2 Miguel Ohara x SpiderFem

🔞Needy Miguel pt.3 Miguel Ohara x SpiderFem

Blurbs and AU:

🔞Boyfriend! Miguel on your period

✨Promise Me Miguel FanArt & Writing AU for Non Violent Communication by @greensagephase

WIPS

🔞More Lies (sweet lies cont, special request) Jonatan Levy x f!reader

🔞Possessive Abel Morales xf!reader

🔞Sex shop outing Steven Grant x Gn!Reader

🔞Needy Miguel pt.4 Miguel Ohara x SpiderFem

✨Bite me softer Miguel O’Hara x Gn!Reader

🔞Bite me harder Miguel O’Hara xGn!Reader

[trojanteapot]

FIONNA AND CAKE SPOILERS: Thoughts on Marceline being "The Star"

I rewatched The Stakes Miniseries after last week's Fionna and Cake episodes, and maybe to some of you who have thought about Adventure Time more than I have, this is old news, but they had always telegraphed Marceline being "The Star".

In the last episode of the miniseries, The Dark Cloud, when Marceline activates her full demon soul-sucking powers, she glows pink and becomes kind of like a starry nebula.

The whole plot of the stakes miniseries is about Marceline coming to terms with the trauma in her past, growing up, and feeling more sure of herself. This is in fact all themes that align with the Upright tarot card The Star.

[image ID: The Star/Meaning When the Star card appears, you are likely to find yourself feeling inspired. It brings renewed hope and faith and a sense that you are truly blessed by the universe at this time. The Star represents: New hopes and splendid revelations of the future, insight, inspiration, courage and enlightenment of the spiritual self. Body and mind and converging towards the light at the end of a dark time(s).]

The Star is number 17, following The Tower number 16. It's supposed to represent the light at the end of the tunnel, the glimmer of hope. It's positivity and aspirations after many trials and tribulations. This tarot card perfectly encapsulates the character arc of Main Universe Marceline.

Now what about the other universe? This brings me to what The Star means when it's drawn Reversed:

[image ID: Hopelessness The Star Tarot Card Meaning. Key Meanings (Upright): Hope, inspiration, creativity, calm, contentment, renewal, serenity, spirituality, healing, positivity. Key Meanings (Reversed): Hopelessness, despair, focusing on the negative, lack of faith, lack of inspiration, lack of creativity, boredom, monotony.]

In the universe where the vampires have taken over the post-mushroom wars Earth, they were so effective at killing humans, and all manner of living creatures that life on Earth is on the brink of collapse. The Vampire King has used the Ice Crown to cover the sky in perpetual clouds, which must have also sped up ecosystem collapse for life that doesn't have blood for the vampires to drink. The Princess Bubblegum of that world even spells it out that their world is pretty much nearing its end. In that sense, the Marceline of that world represents hopelessness and despair. However, not for herself, but for the three protagonists of Fionna and Cake.

Fionna is beginning to realize that no matter how much she tries to help, nothing is working out. Adventuring wasn't how she thought it was, and she just wants to go home.

Simon is already deep in his pit of despair from the very beginning of the series, because he is depressed and sees no place for himself in the land of Ooo, and no way to contact Betty after she ascended to godhood. And Fionna is realizing that if Simon becomes Ice King again, he will have to give up his mind, and pretty much annihilate himself in order to give magic back to her world.

Cake doesn't seem to be in despair at first, but we learn by the end of the episode that Cake absolutely does not want to go back to being a normal cat. She would do anything to stay the way she is, but this is at odds with what Fionna is realizing that she wants.

And if all of that hopelessness isn't enough, after the vampire universe, the trio are teleported to an even worse universe where the Lich had already succeeded in wiping out all life! Not to mention when BMO tried to help them fix their universe-hopping remote, he also destroyed himself in the process ):

So yeah, the writers were very smart to insert both meanings of the Star (both upright and reversed) into the wider narrative of Adventure Time!!!

[chrismerle]

Elsa's Writing Commissions

Hey, hi, hello! I'm Elsa and my usual freelancing contracts are (still) being flaky assholes, so I'm extending branches in other directions!

I’ve been informed that I’m a fairly good writer, and I’ve done writing commissions in the past, so I figure I may as well see if it helps! You can check my writeblr tag, my (very tiny) ghostwriting portfolio, or my AO3 account for examples of my writing.

PRICING:

$0.03 per word.

So, 500 words would be $15.

You give me a ballpark of the length you want. So, if you’re willing to spend between $20 and $25, the story will be between 666 and 833 words.

I’ll round down to the nearest $0.10. So if the finished product is 526 words, I’ll report it as being $15.70, rather than $15.78.

I take payments through Paypal or Venmo.

GUIDELINES:

500-word minimum

You don’t need to supply a full outline, but you do need to have some idea of what you want to happen in the story. The longer the story, the more detail I’ll need. If you just want, like, 500 words, then 'X and Y cuddling’ will suffice, but if you want 5,000 words, I’ll need more to go off of than that.

I will write about your OCs, as long as you can provide info on them.

I will write fanfic, as long as I know the source material well enough (list provided below).

I will write smut, just double-check any kinks you want first. (I won’t write any involving bodily fluids, poop, vore, or feet, sorry.)

If I’m super uncomfy with the subject matter, I’ll turn down the commission, if only because it would be a really badly written end product.

Sorry, but I won't write self-insert or reader-insert fic.

FANDOM LIST (below the cut):

Kingdom Hearts (not Back Cover or Union)

Final Fantasy VII (original Compilation or Remake)

Final Fantasy XV

Persona 5, vanilla or Royal

Persona 4, vanilla only

Dragon Age (games only)

Mass Effect

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Avatar: The Last Airbender (original series only)

Good Omens (book or show)

Five Nights at Freddy’s (games only)

Who Killed Markiplier? and related series

The Legend of Zelda (OoT, MM, TP, SS, or BotW only)

Star Wars (movies only)

Power Rangers, Ninja Storm and Dino Thunder

Yuri! On Ice

Fullmetal Alchemist, original anime or Brotherhood

Black Butler, anime or manga

Transformers, cartoons, anime, and live action movies

Critical Role campaign 2

Subnautica

The Sandman (Netflix series only)

Sonic the Hedgehog (recent movies only)

Howl’s Moving Castle (Ghibli movie only)

[sorry-but-no-sorry]

Learning commun and a name 2/2

Note: first the topic of paper, I know paper existed in the Star Wars universe but it’s rarely used and again I’m basing myself mostly of the CW/tbb show. I also like the dynamic of what is considered Primitive vs high technology and considering Tech was born with a tablet in his hands, he might have seen files about paper but could have never physically interacted with it, let me be the boomer in this au.

Secound Topic, my name, I don’t like to use my own name, because reasons, so I really needed to find a loophole

[phantomchick]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

Naruto

Hear the silence by EmptySurface the self insert fic that got me to start giving other SI fic a chance, continues to be great

the name of the game by a_sassin Follows the story of a civilian shogi player in the Naruto world and all the shinobi trouble she gets dragged into.

If You Give Me A Sword by TakaGang Ichigo (from Bleach) is the firstborn of the Uchiha mainhouse and Itachi is relegated to middle child.

Senju Of Wave by TheBeardedOne Naruto raised by Tsunade au

With Friends Like These by RecklessWriter sasuke time travel fix it

BNHA (can't believe the manga's ending in 5 chapters? Time flies)

The Democratic Republic of One for All by featherlessquill (CinnamonScribbles) All Might tells Izuku he can't be a hero, the echoes of One For All vote and decide they think he can and give Izuku the quirk

Harry Potter (disclaimer: I'm not a terf/transphobe fuck jkr)

Encounters of the Future Sort by CalmlyErratic The fifth marauders + Lily and Snape travel forward in time to Harry's fifth year. Chaos and angst ensues.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Snake by gonzoclock James and Lily baby trap Voldemort without his knowledge, Harry is Lily and Tom's bio son.

Fascist ideology in the Harry Potter Fandom. [Or, for real everyone, we are in the middle of a global rise in fascism please *think* about the things you're reading and the ideas they're platforming.] by skeli666 excellent meta is excellent

Star Wars

Biting His Own Tale by ADragonsFriend Anakin time travels, this does not make stopping Palpatine's plans magically simpler. Cathartic for those who wanted Darth Vader to actually do the work to atone after Luke redeemed him and for those who find prequel fix its unrealistically easy with just knowledge of Palp's identity/the clone chips sometimes.

Batman

Wings over Gotham by icarus_chained platonic abo my beloved, divergent from no man's land on, one of my favourite series

straight back by TheResurrectionist That oliver gets mad at batman on his friend bruce wayne's behalf fic. If you follow my tumblr you've already seen me reccing this but still can't leave it out

let the light in by TheResurrectionist that other great platonic ollie & bruce fic

Chronicles of Narnia the seas of all i knew by softtooth_jpeg edmund/caspian, I love the way this fic goes into Edmund's psychology and why he acts the way he does at the start of the lion, the witch and the wardrobe, top tier writing

Four Thrones by shinealightonme A short but great fic that shows the Pevensie's transition from the end of the lion, the witch and the wardrobe to kings and queens.

A:TLA

Waiting on that morning sun by DustOnDaydreams

“To the Generals, Admirals, Officers, Soldiers and Sailors of the Fire Nation, Halt your advance. Pull back to your nearest military stronghold, and await further orders. Do not engage any forces unless absolutely necessary for your own defence. Put out any fires you come across. Sign it only with the full list of the Fire Lord's titles." “Your Majesty, do you not want to put your name to the missive?” A young pimpled scribe squeaked out to the shocked silence. “No. I want them to obey the order.” Or Zuko's transition from child soldier to young monarch in charge of a corrupted nation

MARVEL

(Un)Fortunate Circumstances by lomku au where Tony and Steve meet differently

Or how Steve wakes up from the ice in the SHIELD facility, runs into Tony, and kind of kidnaps him in his bid for freedom.

Even the Score by Sineala for phoenixmetaphor stony oneshot, Tony high in the hospital panics and attacks Steve. Super good.

Sucker Punch by Sineala Angst. Angst. Angst. Oneshot. Steve never quite warms to Tony Stark, Avengers benefactor. The Molecule Man never strips Iron Man out of his armor. Life goes on for the Avengers, but as disagreements split the team -- and Shellhead and Winghead -- again and again, Steve wonders why Iron Man always picks Tony over him. And when Steve finds out, it happens in the worst way possible. Captain America was a good man by ElnaK inspired by Sineala's work this is Tony's side of the fic, "Sucker Punch". IT'S SO GOOD BUT PREPARE FOR ANGST.

yugioh

Legally Insane by Xparrot continues to be my fave yugioh fic

Percy Jackson

ATLOP: Trial by Fire by WardofWinters (QoLife)

Percy was having a normal day at the beach, until he decided to try to waterbend like Katara from his favorite show.

Nothing to make a song about but kings by iwillpassthis

It’s a fortune that Poseidon has a mortal son, because when an ancient curse hits his kingdom and all the sea gods disappear… well, someone must rule.

Original work

The Gift of Perfect Knowledge by BookmarkBookworm

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

Felony saying that everyone in the universe can access the force if they tried hard enough makes me want to deck him in his fugly face

He’s ruining all established canon in real time. Speed running the absolute destruction of continuity of the SW universe and people are still rooting for him and his blorbo self inserts like there’s no tomorrow. Literally the whole reason I no longer engage in Ashoka content is because he massacred my girl and made her so one dimensional that my Mary Sue self insert fanfics OCs I wrote when I was 14 looks well developed compared to the absolute bland “girlboss kick ass take names” personality Ashoka has right now.

There were so many opportunities for him to explore the absolute potential of angst and conflict within Ashoka in this new series, to give her character a believable story of grief loss and growth yet he threw it all away because he wanted his OC to be the specialist girl that ever lived. This series could’ve been used to explore Ashokas conflicting feelings regarding the Anakin that taught her and was a mentor to her whilst trying to connect it to the monster that killed her family and hunted her culture into almost extinction and tried to kill her, a person he confessed to love as a sister, on Malachor. It could’ve been a good send off to a great character, to have her face that the Skyguy she put on a pedestal in her mind was in actuality the worst sort of scum and have her try to come to terms that just because she can forgive him for being the genocidal maniac he was and still hold love in her heart for who he used to be and also understand why the Jedi, her family, wasn’t the reason for their own downfall.

But alas. We got another series of “the Jedi caused their own downfall!!! Anakin did nothing wrong ever and him killing all my family and everyone I’ve ever known is so not his fault!!! It’s definitely the fault of the unbending stuck in the past council!!!”. Instead of a series that could’ve made Ashoka’s “departure” (literally never going to happen with felony at the helm, he’s going to find a way to make her immortal and then show up 200 years in the future to be the protagonist of another light v dark fight since she’s his special SI) from the series tie in nicely thematically and canonically with every other Star Wars media we have, he decided that the best way to have this series go down is 1) everyone is force sensitive if they tried hard enough ig and 2) the Jedi were bad!!! Their protocols don’t work! They were mean to my little meow meow Anakin Skywalker the greatest Jedi of all times™️ therefore he got to kill them all!!!!

Got a bit off topic but I’m still so mad that he had this chance to make Ashoka truly experience growth like the first 5 seasons of TCW yet he decided maintaining the badass rebel without a cause aesthetics for her was more important then good story telling.

Honestly though, my main problem with this series is that he decided that apparently everyone in the universe can be force sensitive if they “just tried hard enough”. Like your Midichlorian Count no longer matters since even if you were Force-Null you can still be special!!!!

This takes away any and all urgency in the Jedi Fallen Order games. It makes Cals journey absolutely redundant. It throws away all the tragedy contained in having inquisitors being force sensitive kids kidnapped from their parents and tortured till they give into the dark side. If all beings are able to use the force in his universe then there are no consequences to the inquisitors not finding the Holocron that holds the names to all force sensitive children in the universe. There would be no need to them to chase Cal and the Mantis Crew throughout the universe to obtain what they have. They could’ve just went down to any random level in Coruscant and take homeless Force-Null kids and train them.

Even better! It makes the entirety of the KOTOR games redundant!!!! Oh and I guess the hidden path is also redundant since everyone can be force sensitive and no one truly needs more saving from the empire over others :/ totally not like these kids that were saved by the path would’ve been taken and tortured into inquisitors, definitely not since EVERYONE is force sensitive nowadays or is it just the ones Ashoka trains herself because she’s the “living embodiment of the daughter uwu she’s so special and unique look how well she can train a non force sensitive to be force sensitive!!!”

Everyone in the Star Wars universe has Midichlorian’s in their blood. That is a fact. It is also an established fact that the amount each person has is different and is not determined nor dependent on lineage. Force-Nulls typically range in the 1000-3000 count and you need 7000 to be force sensitive and higher to be accepted into the order. (The order isn’t the end all be all of force cultures, Rouge One shows that Jedha’s force culture isn’t restricted to only force sensitives as the Guardian’s were never specified to be only a religious order of force sensitives. And high canon doesn’t depict many other force cultures but we know that there are many force cultures in the universe that co-exist with the Jedi with which the Jedi weren’t in opposition towards; literally not even the witches of Dathomir were oppositions anywhere outside of the battle fields.) You don’t need to be force sensitive to be part of a force culture (Jedha literally has pilgrims who come far and wide to make a pilgrimage to the holy site and not all of them were force sensitive), Sabine could’ve very easily been taught the tenets of the Jedi without retconning her to be force sensitive or making everyone in the universe force sensitive.

No where in either the EU or High Canon did anyone ever say that you have to be force sensitive to be a badass or to make a difference. Hera did not hold the title of the best pilot in the universe just for some rat of a man to come and say that Anakin was the best because *muh force sensitivity!!!!* Some of the most heroic and most influential (good or bad) people in the franchise are Force-Null! And that’s great! It means that the force doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else! It’s a quirk of the universe! To retcon that everyone can and is force sensitive if they tried hard enough is literally cheapening everything the franchise stands for. Andor did not literally give us an entire story about how Force-Nulls in the Galaxy makes just as much of a difference as force sensitives for felony to come out and say that “you know what??? Midichlorian’s are a scam! You get a force sensitivity! You get a force sensitivity! Everyone gets a force sensitivity!!!!”

Sabine was great as she was in rebels, why cheapen it with “oh she’s actually force sensitive all this time!!!” When we could’ve stuck with badass Force-Null Mandalorian can kick your ass five ways to Sunday with her paint bombs and blasters you force wielding asshole!!! Like why even do that felony. Do you want people to hate her??? Nvm ofc you do, you need Ashoka to be the best in every way possible even if it means ruining every other beloved character in this franchise👍

[licorice-and-rum]

On Fascism, DEs and Dumbledore - the actual essay lol

Hey, guys! Sorry it took me so long to write this one, I really had some themes to mature before I could put all of my thoughts in writing but I finally feel like I’m ready to talk about what I want to. Before I begin, however, I want to point out a few things:

First of all, I ask all of you to enter this with an open mind because not everything I’ll say here is exactly popular opinion in the HP fandom. And, although I recognize that my perceptions and interpretations are frayed by my own background and way of thinking, my literary analysis is still based off, on some level, of academical knowledge. It doesn’t make it true, of course, but I believe it’s a solid base to have.

Second, this is, in no way, an attack on people who like the Death Eaters (Barty, Regulus, Rosier, Draco, and so on). These people are not the problem I’m talking about here because, to begin with, the characters they like are not exactly the Canon version of them, and then, because a work of fiction doesn’t determine a person’s character.

It's completely normal for popular works of fiction — and that’s especially true in Literature — to have their characters remodeled to fit a better narrative to the time they are inserted in. It happens with Fairytales, it happens with classical books — Sherlock Holmes is one of the greatest examples I can give —, it just happens. And the new interpretations are an attempt to almost self-insert: is a mirroring of our interpretations and experiences in those characters we like so much.

That said, I still have a problem with how normalized it has become in our society to make a sad backstory to fascist-like villains and that’s where I would like to start this rant/analysis. This issue is not focused on the Harry Potter characters, however: it has happened in Star Wars (both with Anakin and more recently with The Acolyte), in The Hunger Games (with Snow, although it wasn’t the intention) and many other big films/books/series in the industry.

It has a reason: we’re living through late-stage capitalism, which means capitalism is in shambles and it needs a “emergency button” of sorts, something it can use to establish some kind of control back. That’s why we’ve seen so many far-right parties win elections lately: it’s a normal thing for people to be attracted to fast and simple solutions when things are bad, even though they might not be solutions at all.

Anyway, I digress: the point is, when fascism (capitalism’s emergency button) arises, it needs to have a cultural support so that people can assimilate it better, accept it better so it can maintain itself. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not, by all means, saying that a bunch of men sat down on a white room and decided that now they would start creating Art that endorses/romanticizes fascist narratives, of course not.

This is a natural process, it happens because we, as a general rule, already lean into right wing theorical thinking by living into a capitalist mode of production. So, when capitalism collapses, many of us pull our values farthest into capitalistic mindset because that’s what we understand as secure, as stable. And this translates into art through some favored tropes or classical narratives, such as the Chosen One or the “the system is not corrupted, the people running it are” narrative.

Both of those tropes fit into the Harry Potter series in obvious ways, of course. But lately, I’ve been noticing a really particular characteristic of these narratives/tropes that are used to endorse fascism, which I believe has to do with the time period we’re at right now and who the target-audience is, and that is what I called the “individualization of narratives”.

I’m not gonna be arrogant here and say that I’m the only one who noticed this, of course not, but I haven’t found any works on that, so I’m gonna describe, in my own words, what I think this phenomenon is:

The individualization of narratives, as I call it, refers to the details some characters’ backgrounds have when they are into the “dark side”, the side that is supposed to be the fictional version of fascist-like groups. And those details — or lack thereof — are done in a way the reader can fill in the gaps in such a way to identify and empathize with them.

Again, that’s is not the problem, this happens to every character ever, it even happens with celebrities. Our brains are wired to fill in gaps in a person’s personality or character when we don’t have all the information, it’s a natural reaction. Problem is that, as it’s becoming popular to write a villain with a purpose, a “morally gray” character if you will (although I take issue with how that’s portrayed, which I’ll treat more carefully when I talk about Dumbledore), the fascist-like narratives that became so popular with post-war people, gain a new meaning.

That’s not the doing of the Art itself, it’s just a reflection of political issues that are already here but that are also perpetrated and continued by Art and material cultural production, just like anti-socialism dystopian books were in the Cold War scenario, for example. However, it’s undeniable that this movement serves a purpose, a political purpose, and that is to endorse fascism and fascist narrative. Let’s not get over ourselves here: again, this is not the evil doing of some unknown entity, it’s just a natural process of the current political climate reflecting in cultural production.

But it still serves a purpose, and what I aim to do with this essay is to demystify a bit this movement in Harry Potter. But first, we have to understand what fascism is:

Capitalism, which begun more or less in the 1600s, is a mode of production (a mold to which our society fit to work within capitalism’s needs of existence). It is based on profit, which means our society is shaped to produce that profit, everything in a society is shaped to serve this purpose, from the industry to our perception of reality — it’s all a capitalism-based ideology.

Again, reminding: that’s not a secret plot to convince people, it’s a natural process of building identity within reality. It happened in feudalism, and before that with Ancient Empires, and so on and on. There’s nothing inheritedly evil in this process.

However, capitalism is a mode of production that demands, in order to continuing to exist, more than society can provide, so it collapses from time to time. The Stock Market Crash of 1929 and the following Great Depression is one of the most striking examples of capitalism collapsing, and it’s not by happenstance that fascism arose right after this collapse.

As I said before, fascism is capitalism’s emergency button: when systems collapse, that’s where they get more vulnerable to radical change, and the extreme hardships the masses had to endure after its collapse in the 1930s could easily signify a chance for a change in the modes of production throughout the occidental countries of Europe — something that couldn’t happen if capitalism was to survive.

What I mean by bringing all this to the essay is that I want to be very clear with what fascism defends and what it means: it’s the supremacy of not only a country, or exaggerated nationalism, it is also the management and upkeeping of a society’s very structure. And, to be even clearer: that society is white, rich, and patriarchal-based.

There’s a reason why fascism is considered a white-supremacy political movement: because it defends capitalism. And capitalism was built over the need of cheap work force.

Many of you may have thought slavery when I said that, and you’d be correct.

However, with the times progression, that changed into a new form of exploration: because of the past with slavery and exploration of resources of colonized countries, it became easier — and also a natural progression from the dehumanizing of non-white communities to justify slavery — to just cheapen the work force by making non-white communities poorer, more vulnerable and more desperate to fulfill their needs.

That forces those communities — and third world countries as a whole — to accept the money and the exploration of not only first-world countries (colonizer countries) but also big corporations. I could go on and on about all the effects this policy has in non-white communities, from police brutality until the banalization of the violence in large scale (such as the Palestinian genocide) but I want to stay within the scope here.

This justification of slavery, the dehumanization of non-white peoples, is one of the main pillars of capitalism, and as such, it’s the main pillar of fascism. In Harry Potter, the intention is that those characteristics don’t present themselves in race but in blood — not that Rowling is very successful with this, considering the amount of veiled and not-so-veiled racism in her books but whatever.

Now, as I see it, Harry Potter is not a good portrayal of fascism and that has a very clear cause: Rowling’s lack of understanding of what fascism is to begin with, or how the root causes of it affect the system of the wizarding society.

As someone who have studied it, I can say that the blood purity issue wouldn’t be present only in some rich people’s minds, it would be structural to the wizarding world, in a way that would present itself in hardship for muggleborns to get jobs, in jokes that are not funny, in opinions that are degrading, in isolation and discrimination in a day to day level. And of course, there is some of it in the HP books, but it’s not treated as a structural issue — it’s treated as an individual problem.

And that’s where the real problem begins: if we treat fascism as a problem that stems from a person’s own choices instead of a political and collective movement that elevates to a highest level the structural issues that are already there, we fall into the trap of minimizing the problem because, if someone is a fascist because they’re evil, the next question to make is: why are they evil?

Currently, what we’re doing with our villains becomes a problem in these situations: in an attempt to individualize our villains, we make them human. Human in the sense that we can empathize with them, we can understand them. And, for a fascist-like narrative, that’s extremely dangerous because it makes us unconsciously start to endorse their trajectories and choices when we absolutely shouldn’t.

Fascism is not equivalent to rebelliousness.

“Oh, the good side is not so good because they treated this character bad and now he had to turn to a fascist group and decimate people because he’s traumatized.”

See how, when I say it like that, it sounds ridiculous?

But of course, you probably know that. Again, I’m not accusing people who like those characters of endorsing fascism, what I am saying, however, is that the political climate of today is doing it and it’s reflecting on our art production. What I am calling for is for people to recognize that their view of those characters as they really would be if they were anywhere near reality is not only flawed, it’s entirely wrong.

Snape, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Draco, Bellatrix, the Blacks as a whole — they are not the abused little teenagers who had no choice but to join the Death Eaters. They are fascists, they have always been fascists, even when they suffered. And sure, to some of them, there is more to their characters than this but the truth remains that they, in some capacity, not only endorsed a fascist narrative, they actively perpetuated it to the detriment and the suffering of marginalized peoples.

And none of them had a good, believable, and more importantly, complete redeeming arc.

Our interpretations of them are cool, I love it, I prefer them to many HP characters, to be honest. But that doesn’t change the fact that, if HP was a little bit more real, a little bit closer to reality, those characters wouldn’t be bullied teenagers forced into fascism as a means to become powerful enough to escape their abuse — as if that makes it so much better —, they’d be incels, they’d be bullies themselves.

And that’s not an opinion: we, as a fandom, tend to forget that the DEs are the ones with real societal power in the wizarding world. Most of them are purebloods, most of them are rich, most of them are friends with rich and pureblooded wizards, and they are privileged. They are not ostracized as we like to imagine, they are royalty.

For them, to fight for blood purity is to fight for their own benefit, is to fight to maintain the pillars that keep them unaccountable for their behaviors and privilege whilst at the same time, pushing marginalized people — muggleborns, fantastical creatures, even half-bloods — to a dehumanizing condition. And they don’t feel sorry for this.

Now, the truth is that this is partially Rowling’s fault: her lack of understanding of how deep the issues she’s portraying really run makes it possible for her to interpret her own characters as redeemable because they somehow exchange sides when it fits them.

That’s mostly seen with the Malfoys: neither Draco, Narcissa, nor Lucius ever change sides because they see the suffering of others and think of it as wrong. They change sides when Voldemort’s cruelty starts to weigh on them — their change of loyalties are not coming from empathy for marginalized peoples or decency, it comes from self-preservation.

Kind of the same thing with Snape (I wrote some essays focused on Snape, so if anyone is interested, here’s the first, then the second).

Now, of course, that’s not to say those characters weren’t abused on someway or suffered but that’s the thing: no abuse in the world justifies the persecution, torture and killing of innocent people. To offer a counterpoint, the marginalized peoples the Death Eaters persecuted are also traumatized in some, they also can have had abusive parents and/or families but that is not taken into account when we talk about the Death Eater’s own traumas.

The narrative that the Death Eaters were abused their whole childhoods is so strong today in fandom that most people don’t stop to think that those teenagers probably were horrible people. Yes, maybe horrible because some of them were abused, I’m not denying that, but still horrible, which means they wouldn’t accept help. To hold them responsible for their own doings and their own privileges would seem for them as a persecution against them — just like fascist-like narratives often portray pro-LGBTQ+ or non-white policies and/or narratives.

It is also one of the reasons I take issue with the Slytherin portrayal of abused kids ostracized by the rest of the school. It’s really just isolating fascist narrative and only partially based on truth but I don’t think I want to stretch this conversation now (I can write more about it later if you want though).

So no, respectfully, I refuse to accept that those people — mostly men and rich people, I am forced to point out — would be anything but disgusting, and that’s where I take issue with some behaviors within the HP fandom. Because we’re being influenced by almost two decades of fan fiction and the current political climate, it’s very often that I find people who are sincerely incapable of dissociating fandom to canon.

Hence, the actually infuriating villainization of Albus Dumbledore.

Now, that’s a topic that makes me impatient AF. Not only because it is based on a strong fetishization of who Dumbledore really was, and what he could and couldn’t do, but also because it is a clear example of most people’s inability to differentiate between what they’re reading for fun and what they are internalizing from that media.

Let’s begin with that: Dumbledore is not some evil mastermind, and he is not equivalent to Voldemort. He is a flawed character, that’s true, but he is not a villain. And to think so is to play into the narrative that, because the “good side” fails, or makes wrong decisions, or even actively makes bad decisions, or immoral decisions in times of war, that is somehow equivalent to the “bad side”.

It is not.

That narrative is the same narrative that allows Israel to build an equivalence between Hamas’ violent acts and their own when in truth, as reproachable as some Hamas’ decisions may be according to various perspectives, their violence is a reaction to heavy and even more violent oppression.

What I mean is, even if Dumbledore failed in some of his decision-making in the Harry Potter books, even if we may believe we could do better, Dumbledore is a true morally gray character. But first, to make the point I want to make, we have to understand him:

For this, I will first separate his two identities as they appear throughout Harry Potter: as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Dumbledore plays a role as a leader and role model, but he is also a person with flaws and mistakes like anyone else. These are the two main “faces” of Albus Dumbledore for this defense post, so now let's analyze them more closely:

The first "face" we see of Dumbledore is that of the leader, and this is primarily because of Harry who, at eleven years old, sees Dumbledore as the kind of man he would like to emulate. This also happens with many other wizards throughout the story: it's clear to anyone that most of the people within Harry’s personal circle like and admire Dumbledore, while those who despise him are often the “bad” characters (Lucius Malfoy is probably one of the earliest examples of this).

Although that doesn’t mean they are somehow starstruck by the headmaster: Sirius, Snape, the Weasley parents, Moody, even James and Lily, they all question Dumbledore and his decision making at some point in the books. They end up following through more times than not, that’s true, but trust in someone is different than blind-faith. Those characters accept Dumbledore’s leadership because they trust him, not because they think he’s some type of a god.

However, we see things through Harry’s point of view, and Harry is a child who has no parents, no model figures, no one who really supports that role to him until his eleventh year. It's easy, then, to see how the leader face Dumbledore presents is one of someone the characters (and readers) can trust not to fail, and even easier to view him as someone with great power. This is the fandom’s biggest mistake in viewing him.

Shall we now remember a bit of Dumbledore’s history and delve into his personal side?

As a young man, he met Grindelwald and, according to J.K. Rowling, fell in love with him, as well as with his goal of seeking the Deathly Hallows and becoming the most powerful wizards of all time. 

In the last Harry Potter book, in the King's Cross chapter, Dumbledore himself confesses to Harry how the desire for power blinded him to what was truly important, how power was his greatest weakness, and therefore what made him unworthy of it. This is why Dumbledore remained as the headmaster of Hogwarts when he could have so easily become more important in the wizarding community (besides, of course, his love for the students): to keep himself away from power.

Here's the quote (It might be a bit different in the original, considering I’m translating it from Portuguese):

“‘I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory... Invincible Masters of Death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore!... The years passed. There were rumors about him. They said he had obtained a wand of immense power. Meanwhile, I was offered the position of Minister for Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I learned that I could not be trusted with power.’

‘But you'd have been better than Fudge or Scrimgeour!’ said Harry.

‘Would I?’ asked Dumbledore heavily. ‘I am not so sure. I proved as a very young man that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.’”

This is what the fandom most fails to understand: the admiration of wizards for Dumbledore makes him influential, but not powerful, and this becomes especially clear during the end of The Goblet of Fire and throughout The Order of the Phoenix.

One of the first signs of this in the fourth book is when Fudge refuses to believe Dumbledore about Voldemort’s return: let's remember that, until that point, Fudge sought Dumbledore’s advice for his decisions as Minister of Magic precisely because the headmaster had the respect of much of the wizarding population. But when Fudge, who has the actual power, puts his foot down and says that Dumbledore no longer has influence over the Ministry’s choices, Dumbledore lacks the power to deny it, to stop it.

If he did, it would be safe to say that he would have used his power over the Ministry to convince everyone that Voldemort had indeed returned, and more, to mobilize the Ministry against Voldemort. But none of this happens simply because Dumbledore does not have that power.

Thus, it becomes easier to differentiate power from influence.

It’s Fudge’s power that causes the Ministry as an organization and the wizarding media to turn against the Headmaster, and Dumbledore doesn’t have the power to stop it, but he has enough influence to still be heard by part of the wizarding population. It’s Fudge’s power that leads to Harry’s expulsion from Hogwarts at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, but it’s Dumbledore’s influence that convinces the Ministry to agree to a trial, and it’s his influence that moves the people present to listen to his defense of Harry during that trial. If Dumbledore had power over these events, Harry wouldn’t even have had a trial — something the Headmaster categorically calls an absurdity.

Therefore, Dumbledore doesn’t have power; he has influence, and there’s a difference between what he can actually do and what the fandom seems to believe he can do. Dumbledore has no power over the Ministry; he can’t boss anyone around except, perhaps, the Hogwarts staff and the Order of the Phoenix, a group whose members agreed to make him leader.

What he really has are people willing to listen to his advice and thoughts, as well as inclined to follow him, but that doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily do everything Dumbledore says (Sirius, anyone?).

It’s important to separate these two concepts for this analysis to continue because it will make Dumbledore’s actions make much more sense in this discussion. That said, let’s now begin to analyze “The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore”:

The main criticisms I see regarding Dumbledore revolve around Harry’s life and the decisions the Headmaster made concerning him.

Before I begin, however, I want to point out that, despite Dumbledore’s flaws, he is still a leader (just like Harry), and as a leader, he bears responsibility for the lives of the people he has chosen to protect (just like Harry). It’s important to keep this in mind so that I can highlight a few things later.

So, let’s start with when the prophecy is heard and Voldemort begins hunting Harry instead of Neville. It’s important to emphasize here that, once a prophecy is made in the Harry Potter universe and the people the prophecy is about start acting according it, it’s going to happen; there’s no way around it, or at least that’s what we’re told as canon. That’s why, as soon as the prophecy is made and Voldemort actively choses to hunt them down, everyone knows that Harry (or Neville) will be the one to face Voldemort, and one of them will die — hopefully Voldemort.

Although he’s the one to whom the prophecy was made, Dumbledore has no control over it: there’s no way to avoid the fact that Harry (or Neville) would face Voldemort at some point in their lives once Snape overhears it and tells Voldemort. All he — and everyone else — can do is give the Chosen One the tools and knowledge necessary to face Voldemort with the best possible chance of winning — which he does later on by becoming Harry’s primary mentor.

Then the Potters are “chosen” and go into hiding in Godric’s Hollow, making Peter the Secret Keeper. Some more information on this choice: Dumbledore offered to be the Secret Keeper, but James and Lily refused and preferred to choose Sirius. However, they switched to Peter without telling anyone, not even Dumbledore. This is another thing I see the fandom complaining about a lot, but it’s explicitly canon that no one besides Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter knew about the switch.

This wasn’t because they didn’t trust Dumbledore, but because Albus was in the middle of the storm as one of Voldemort’s biggest targets. The Potters didn’t reject Dumbledore as their Secret Keeper because they didn’t trust him (they wouldn’t even be in the Order if that were the case, don’t you think?), but because they were thinking primarily of Harry’s safety, and placing their family’s safety in the hands of the second biggest target of Voldemort in that war simply doesn’t seem like a wise move.

So, there’s no reason, even up to the third book, for Dumbledore to suspect that Sirius is innocent and try to intervene to get him some kind of trial or chance to explain himself. There’s no indication that Dumbledore had contact with Sirius before he was sent to Azkaban, so how could the Headmaster be blamed for that?

Again, it’s important to emphasize that Dumbledore has influence.

Even if he wanted Sirius to have a trial, there’s no evidence that he could make it happen, since everything pointed to Sirius as the culprit — remembering that there’s a big difference between a trial for underage magic and the murder of thirteen Muggles, plus the whole Secret Keeper and high-profile situation. In fact, it’s also good to remember that as soon as Dumbledore learns the truth, he does everything in his power — even sending Harry and Hermione back in time — to save Sirius from being kissed by the Dementors.

But going back a bit, a week after Peter becomes the Secret Keeper, he reveals the Potters’ location to Voldemort, and on Halloween night in 1981, Voldemort goes to Godric’s Hollow and kills James, then Lily, then tries to kill Harry but fails.

This event needs to be broken down into two parts. The first is about Lily’s protection: when she chooses to die even though Voldemort gave her a chance to live, Lily protects Harry, and that’s the reason he survives that encounter with the Dark Lord, who also “dies.”

Since the fourth book, there’s a very specific characteristic of this protection that’s seen many times but never explicitly stated, which is the fact that Lily’s protection has a blood-related nature. In other words, Lily’s protection is especially tied to blood, which is why Voldemort chose Harry’s blood to resurrect himself: because in that way, he also “has” Lily’s blood and, consequently, her protection, which frees him to harm Harry in a way he couldn’t before.

And this is the point I want to reach: Dumbledore chooses the Dursleys to raise Harry not because he wants him to suffer, but because Petunia is the only one who carries Lily’s blood and, therefore, the only one who can ensure that Lily’s protection — the thing for which her sister died — continues to work. The blood Petunia shares with Lily even prevents Voldemort, even after the resurrection ritual, because her blood makes Lily’s protection even stronger.

And it’s good to remember that this measure ends up saving Harry in The Philosopher’s Stone — Quirrell and Voldemort couldn’t touch him because of Lily’s protection, guaranteed by his living in the same house as Petunia — and keeps him safe in the Dursleys’ house for sixteen years, until Harry turns seventeen and the protection finally stops working, even though he still lived with Petunia.

Once again, people overestimate Dumbledore’s ability to act: he had no control over the nature of Lily’s protection; he acted to keep Harry as safe as possible within what he could actually control.

Unfortunately, the choices presented in that situation were either to leave him protected from Voldemort’s assassination attempts or spare him the suffering of growing up with the Dursleys.

Neither choice was ideal, but this is where Dumbledore’s leadership character comes in: Harry’s responsibility to face Voldemort was no longer a choice, even though he was only a year old, because of the prophecy. So, it makes much more sense for him to protect Harry from the greater threat (Voldemort) while ensuring that Harry would have more time to develop and grow before having to face him again.

Dumbledore didn’t make the choice to give Harry to the Dursleys joyfully, wanting him to suffer, but thinking about giving him more time and more opportunities to be a child than he would have had if Lily’s protection weren’t ensured. Obviously, this doesn’t work out very well because the Dursleys are especially cruel to Harry in a way that Dumbledore hadn’t really foreseen, something he himself admits in The Half-Blood Prince:

“‘[...] Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already tried to kill on several occasions, is in much more danger than on the day I left him on your doorstep, fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining that his parents had been murdered and expressing the hope that you would care for him as a son.’

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and did not betray his anger, Harry felt a certain coldness emanating from him. He also noticed that the Dursleys huddled together almost imperceptibly.

‘You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. In your care, he has only known neglect and often cruelty...’”

But it’s important to note that Dumbledore didn’t have good options regarding Harry’s custody; he didn’t have the power to change how Lily’s protection worked; he was working with what he had, which wasn’t much.

The second part of this event focuses more on Voldemort and Harry and is probably the most controversial regarding Dumbledore: the creation of the Horcrux inside Harry and how this is somehow seen as Dumbledore’s fault — hence the famous phrase about being “raised like a pig for slaughter,” but... let’s be honest? What, exactly, could Dumbledore have done against the fact that Harry became a Horcrux?

Once again, here’s the exaggerated view of Dumbledore’s power that the fandom seems to have: he had no control over what happened to the Potters in Godric’s Hollow on Halloween night in 1981. He had no power over Lily’s protection or the Horcrux in Harry. He has no power over Lily’s protection, nor over the Horcrux in Harry. The only thing he has the power to do is to act in a way that ensures his plan guarantees Voldemort’s ultimate defeat and thus saves the entire wizarding world.

I hate it when people say Dumbledore “raised Harry like a pig for slaughter” simply because he knew that Harry would have to die for the Horcrux to be destroyed, as if he had any other option in the matter. Harry’s fate was sealed as soon as Lily’s protection saved him and a part of Voldemort’s soul entered him; Dumbledore bears no responsibility for what happened that night.

So what Dumbledore can do regarding Harry having to die is exactly… nothing. He literally has no power to change this fact, no matter how much he wants to — and he does, because he loves Harry, as he himself says in Order of the Phoenix. But Dumbledore is still a leader, and he still needs to think about the best plan of action to ensure that people continue to have hope and that they can truly see that hope — of being free from Voldemort and his reign of terror — come true. And if that meant Harry had to die to destroy the Horcrux, then that was it. Period.

But it’s also important to point out that Dumbledore didn’t force Harry into anything: by the time Harry receives the information that he needs to die to ensure the salvation of everyone and Voldemort’s mortality, all the people who know this — Dumbledore and Snape, in this case — are dead and unable to do anything if Harry decided to simply run away and leave everyone to fend for themselves because he didn’t want to die.

But, as I pointed out before, Harry is a leader. And he fully accepts the responsibility of this role the moment he decides to face death: he goes to Voldemort willing to die by his own choice, wanting to save those who matter to him, those who trust him to end Voldemort. Not because Dumbledore ordered him, but because he — Harry — is a leader, and a leader sacrifices himself for his cause when necessary.

Saying that Dumbledore was the “cause” of Harry’s death, besides being wrong, also takes away from the greatness of Harry’s choice in that situation. Harry is the protagonist of his own story, and he is always making decisions based on his own mind and beliefs (going after the Philosopher’s Stone, entering the Chamber of Secrets, sparing Pettigrew, going after Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, pursuing the Horcruxes, etc.), so it’s completely unfair for people to place the responsibility for his choice to die on Dumbledore’s shoulders just because the Headmaster gave him the information that Harry was a Horcrux. Harry always acted according to his own mind based on the information he had been given — why would it be any different with the Horcrux inside him?

It simply wouldn’t be. Dumbledore gave the information, but it was Harry who decided what to do with it.

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Dumbledore didn’t tell Harry about having to die to destroy the Horcrux inside him earlier because (a) Harry was a child, and (b) Dumbledore didn’t want to take away Harry’s hope. Additionally, after the fourth book, there was still the possibility that Harry could survive because, by performing the resurrection ritual, Voldemort intertwined his life with Harry’s, thus giving Harry a chance not to die when allowing the Horcrux to be destroyed. So why would Dumbledore tell a teenager that he would have to die at some point in the future… if there was a chance Harry might come back? It seems (to me, at least) like an unnecessary cruelty to place that burden on someone for so long.

So the biggest issue I see with the fandom in relation to Dumbledore is the belief that he had power over things that were completely beyond his reach. Dumbledore was a leader doing the best he could with what he had, within the limitations presented to him and his own experience.

Moreover, it’s admirable that Dumbledore had such a dark and flawed past and acknowledged each of his mistakes, always acting to ensure that he wouldn’t repeat them. It was the events of his adolescence that led him to always remember to value what truly mattered: love and people. He grew through his own pain, through the consequences of his own mistakes; he never forgot or repressed what happened to Ariana — which would certainly have been much easier — but instead, he used that painful event to become a better person.

That’s a morally gray character, that’s someone who had been stuck between a rock and a hard place and did what he thought was best, that’s a character who did the best he could with what he was given. And I really don’t like how fascist-like characters are more often than not considered more complex because of trauma than characters like Dumbledore.

But I guess that’s a bit because we can actually empathize with them better by being convinced that they didn’t have a choice, or that they were somehow forced into those choices even if they really didn’t want to and that might be the case, but to be honest, after seeing what fascist narratives do to marginalized people, I can’t say I care much about it. Anyway, be my guest to comment on my analysis but please be kind, I won’t engage in rage baits nor Zionists, Free Palestine loves <3