#tales of a spectre

[cursed-spectre]

She has to be sure (Spectre short)

Spectre sighed. It had been so long, yet the worry was still there. She was gone now, right? She had to be. Right? Kiara was at the clinic, and Tera on patrol. If she was going to check, now was her best chance. So, after sending a message to her fiancees that she would be out, with a deep breath, she stepped into the shadows ahead.

Shadow travel. That's what she called it, at least. To put it simply, it was weird. Spectre felt like she was under a body of water, the pressure weighing down her entire form. Yet at the same time, her body felt light. She could sense everything nearby, see everything nearby. Her form stretched out to every source of darkness in Sanctuary until it couldn’t be stretched any further. She focused on one source, latching onto it, and pulled closer, losing any senses of shadows that were too far, as the mental tendrils released from them and grasped at the ones that came in range. An overstimulating web of windows. That was what her ability was, but it was quick enough to make the brief moment of mental anguish worthwhile.

She exited into an empty void of space. It was dark, with no stars to brighten the black skies. The glowing white voids she called eyes barely illuminated anything, being no more than a drop of light in the bucket of endless dark. Then again, there was nothing to illuminate anyway. It was empty in every possible way, but she still had to loo—

“You came back.”

Her existence turned subzero the minute the voice behind her was heard. That slow, robotic voice with just enough emotion to barely avoid being completely monotone. Spectre’s petty white lights were swiftly drowned out by the yellow light filling the dark bucket. Taking a deep breath, she turned, and there she was.

At first, it appeared human. It was after taking a closer look that you'd realize it was the cadaver of a young girl being worn. Tan skin stretched over metal, stitched together to form a horrific Halloween costume. Black hair styled into two dangling twin tails framed her freckled face, violently torn around the eyes, which yellow Xs from the visor underneath took the place of.

Her gothic black and purple dress remained tattered, particularly around the chest, where the lace fabric was clogged with blood and oil. The chest's hole tore through the dress and skin revealing the drone’s core. A purple bow in her hair was similarly stained. The metallic piping that were her real legs peeked from holes in the stitched skin, The lace stockings on top of which were stained, as were the glittery purple heels on her feet. Her arms were very much the same up to the hands, where the corpse’s sat above the drone’s own. Despite the overall condition, the black nails they had always been adorned with were retained.

“Hello, my beloved.”

Spectre took a deep breath, noticing as the drone said, “Raise eyebrow.” at the action.

“Hello, Cyn.”

“Oh? You did not refer to me as your beloved.”

“It’s been a while. I’m surprised you still called me that.”

“Of course, my beloved. We are eternally bound. A goddess and her devil. That is what you said.”

“Possibly. I wasn’t sure you’d be alive.” Spectre looked around at the empty void. “You achieved your goal, after all.”

“Indeed. I have completed my secondary directive.”

Spectre raised an eyebrow. “Secondary? I thought the consumption of everything was your primary goal.”

“It was. But that changed with you, my beloved. Do you not… remember the time we spent together?”

Spectre froze for a moment, as memories flashed through her mind.

“I do not. As I said, it has been a long time.”

“Slow blink. After how close we had been, you still forgot me. Heartbreak, sad face.”

“I assure you, I did not forget you. Just some of the time in the manor. Speaking of...” Spectre looked over Cyn’s form. “You’re still wearing Tessa’s… corpse. How has it not completely decayed?”

“Head tilt. Oh, it has, giggle. This is merely a… hologram.”

Several camera like appendages appeared, shining lights at the body as it flickered, revealing nothing in its place. The cameras looked to Spectre. “When I saw that you had returned, I wanted to look familiar. This form pleases you, does it not? Curious glance.”

Spectre looked into a camera with wide eyes. “You… chose an appearance I would like?”

“Of course, my beloved. It was also the appearance I had when we last saw each other. It made the most sense, loving smile. Do you… dislike it?”

Silence.

“Lower head. I see. Sheepish peek. Think. Idea. On the topic of appearances, you look different, my beloved.”

Spectre floated back in the empty space, thinking for a moment.

“Of course. I wasn’t in a place where that form fit in anymore. It was a natural change.”

“Eyes up. It looks… nice.”

“Glad you like it,” Spectre said flatly, her eyes deadpan. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Confused head tilt. Already? It has been so long. We should make up for… lost time.”

The drone-human hybrid glitched before she was inches from Spectre. The sudden appearance made her move back, and several tendrils had spawned from her body, poised to attack.

“Heartbroken expression. Are you afraid of me, my beloved?”

Spectre's thoughts settled, and she looked into her eyes. White voids met yellow Xs.

“No, I was not afraid. Simply surprised by the sudden movement.”

"I see. Then I will help you relax. Perhaps we could dance together."

Spectre shook her head. "No dance. I just wanted to know if you were alive."

“Oh. Downcast expression, I see. In that case, we can—”

In an instant, tendrils shot out from Spectre's back, revealing several claws and hands as some were grabbed and others pierced.

“So that’s how it is.” She looked at the failed stealth attempt.. “It makes sense. I’m the last thing to consume now that I'm here, aren’t I?”

“You are. But that is not why I wanted you. We are bonded. Partners in eternal and exponential life. Is it not normal for such lovers to become one?”

Spectre looked down and began chuckling. The chuckles turned to laughter, and then cackling.

“No, that's not quite what they meant. You really are just like the last time I saw you. It's… reassuring, actually. Goodbye, Cyn.”

“Sad sniffle. Goodbye for now, my beloved. I will wait for you. When you next return, we will have to... catch up.”

“Yeah…” Spectre looked around, speaking sarcastically. “We certainly will.”

She became one with the void once more, and began her journey back.

"I knew you would return again, my beloved. I miss you already."

She looked up as her left eyelight glitched to a heart for just a second.

When she emerged from the shadows, Spectre immediately lied down on the couch, looking blankly at the ceiling above.

“She’s still alive.”

…

“And she still loves me like that.”

She laughed, slapping a hand over her forehead. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t tell her fiancees. That would risk them learning about the thing she wanted to erase from her history the most. Thoughts ran through her mind. How long had it been for her? How long will she wait now? She stretched her arms.

“Well, that’s that. At least I can stop worrying about if she’s alive or not.”

Spectre yawned. Not wanting to get up, she shut her eyes. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep, but not before a message appeared on her phone’s lock screen, its text yellow.

[cursed-spectre]

(Canon)

Spectre x Tera (The Night at the Hotel)

Smut. But you knew that. Here be the warning. Ye have been warned. @cursed-spectre

“You'll like it, we both will~” Tera whispered, looking down at her shape-shifting girlfriend, now in a dissasembly drone form rather then her more human one.

She hadn't asked her to change for any aesthetic reason, Tera would think Spectre was beautiful regardless of the form she took; no, she'd asked for a very specific reason.

Tera drank in the form of her girlfriend, feeling her tail twitch with anticipation. Then, she leant down and pressed a deep, lengthy kiss on her core. Letting Spectre's hand fall back to press against Tera's own.

Spectre gasped at the contact, hands gripping into her fiancé’s hair as she kissed every exposed inch, fangs lightly scraping against the casing, her tongue following to seal the miniscule amount of damage.

For the simple reason that she knew how to make a drone unravel.

The small claws on the tips of her fingers dragged over the rubber, memorizing every unique rivet and bump, even when she knew the next time they would be slightly different, but that didn't deter her, if anything it just meant she got to do it all over again.

Spectre let out a soft moan, closing her eyes and letting the sensation wash over her, a ball of nerves already tightening in her chest.

She thumbed into Tera's core, the drone above her purring in approval, paired with soft growls and groans of pleasure. Her tail arcs up as the sensation rolls down her spine.

Tera trailed kisses up to her collarbone, hands dipping under to crop top to shuck it off so her hands could travel unimpeded over her chest, claws scratching up the surface to activate every (Though in this case fake) sensor she came acros.

When Spectre's tail wraps around her own and rubs down the braided cord she moans, and she returns the favor, the head of her tail clamping onto the vial.

“Ah Fuck~” Spectre wheezes out, the intensity of the feeling surprising. “S-so t-thats what that feels like~ mnn~”

Tera laughs; chuckling. “Mmhmm~”

She can't keep the laugh up when Spectre latches teeth onto her shoulder though, laughter transitioning into a yowl of pleasure.

“Ahn!~ Shit… fuck~” A plethora of curses tumble from her mouth as the smallest bit of oil drools from the wound. Spectre pulls off, slightly concerned but her eyes hollow when Tera forcefully makes her latch on again.

“Don't you fucking dare~” She grunts, eyelights starting to roll into the back of her head when her teeth sink in again.

Spectre throws her head back when Tera leans back down and bites and licks into the sensitive plating over her core, claws scratching up Tera's back and over her wing scars, which produces long and delighted vibrations directly into her core from Tera's mouth.

Spectre sinks the tips of her claws into Tera's wing scars, which makes the drones back arch and yelp. “Spectre! Hah! Ngh…” Her port opens like it's spring loaded, steam wafting from it.

Spectre laughs. “Aww… guess that's it Kit- mmph-!” She's cut off by a desperate kiss, Tera throwing off the miniskirt and beginning to softly grind their hips together. “Nuh-uh~” She parts just long enough to say before all the attention turns to Spectre.

Just because drones don't have the same equipment, it doesn't mean they aren't sensitive there. Humans did design them after all…

“Tera- hah, hu‐ mmmn!”

Pleasure eddied up her spine, Tera unrelenting on the licking and kissing of her core, to the point the living shadow began to squirm under her, panting and trying to regain her breath.

Tera lightly pulls on her tail, taking a finger and her thumb and lightly rubbing on the sensitive cannister on the end of her tail, claws dug into Tera's back hard enough to draw oil, but her pleased grunt showed she liked it.

Spectre's form starts to melt, dissolving a bit at the edges as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. “Te-era, w-wai-ah!”

Wait she did not, the pressure on her tail, still on her core, and between the sensitive plating on her tail was working up something entirely new in her core, her visor glitched as she grinded thier hips hard and mindlessly, chasing whatever it was like a desperate animal.

She squeezed the vial perfectly, not too rough to cause oversensitivity and just enough to push Spectre over the edge. “AH!~”

Acid burst out of the end of her tail, splattering on the floor, a long moan followed, and the port on Spectre's chest opened, even though where it led was nowhere.

Her form melted more, Thankfully hearing her partner come undone made whatever was building up in Tera's core snap suddenly. “Fu-zzzzht!”

Her wings shot out and arched up, trembling as they spread out above her, the muscles tensing tight as she hit her limit.

Her visor filled with her own code, strings describing thoughts, bits of trait data, and bits of junk data racing down her visor like she was being hacked in one of those cheesy hacker movies until it was replaced with [PACKET STORM! REBOOT!]

Her visor blinks off and she shuts off, falling limp to Spectre's side…

[spectre-week]

Join us for Spectre Week!

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

May 25-31, 2024.

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

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

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

Day One-Spectre One (Kanan)

Day Two-Spectre Two (Hera)

Day Three-Spectre Three (Chopper)

Day Four-Spectre Four (Zeb)

Day Five-Spectre Five (Sabine)

Day Six-Spectre Six (Ezra)

Day Seven-Free

The only limitations for fanworks are these:

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

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

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

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

Please reblog to spread the news!

[skygirlstars]

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

@spectre-week

[picspammer]

It's too late. Always has been, always will be… too late.

[whitecap-bay]

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

This is my submission for Spectre Week

@spectre-week

[kanerallels]

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he woke, Caleb Dume was blind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then his emergency signal went off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could see again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. You’re nice like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[deconstructthesoup]

Well... the Princess & the Pauper AU took over my mind... so, here, have some first thoughts as to how this story might work:

-Obviously, Damsel is Annalise and Prisoner is Erika, though they both have slightly different interests and motivations. Damsel, rather than being a science geek, is a lover of stories---tales of high adventure, daring rescues and escapes, and sweeping romance, and has a secret dream of becoming a writer herself. Prisoner, meanwhile, finds her love of dancing and her dreams of someday becoming a professional singer embarrassing and unrealistic, pushing herself to someday run her own dressmaking shop instead as a more attainable goal. She still does occasionally sneak out and sing on the street, but it's a guilty pleasure for her.

-Opportunist is Preminger---because, genuinely, there was no other character who could've fit, and you know that they'd absolutely kill a jazzy remix of "How Could I Refuse"---but even though I love a good-old-fashioned campy villain, I decided to make their motives a bit more complex. They want to be the ruler of the kingdom because they're hell-bent on being the one in charge, but it stems from growing up dirt-poor, with one mother who's chronically ill (Wild) and another mother who's been badly mistreated as a servant (Thorn). Opportunist started out telling themselves that everything they did was to give their family a better life, but that's become a secondary motivation as bitterness and greed have warped them over the years... and, well, in the end, Oppy always looks out for themselves.

-To that end, Opportunist is only four years older than Damsel---26 to her 22---and if you're wondering how they managed to snag a royal advisor position that young, it's exactly how you'd expect. They lied their way into an assistant advisor position in their teens, and when they found out that the old advisor was intending on collapsing one of the gold mines in order to embezzle from the kingdom... well, they saw an opportunity, and made sure that one other person got trapped underneath the rubble.

-Witch is in a role similar to Julian's---she's just the palace gardener instead of Damsel's tutor, and everyone talks about how they're "such good friends" and ignore the fact that they're obviously in love with each other---but I decided to keep my long-standing dynamic of her and Opportunist being cousins, because the drama is something that could not be ignored. In fact, I went one step further, making it so Opportunist is the one who got her the job at the palace... and while they kept her in the dark about all of their plans, Witch knows both Damsel and her cousin too well to not see through the kidnapping scheme.

-Hero is Damsel's personal guard, her best friend aside from Witch, and the person who makes sure that Damsel isn't constantly ditching her lessons and running off to explore the kingdom... at least, not without an escort. He's very sweet and very considerate, and though he's always gently trying to steer Damsel more towards palace life and her duties as the future queen, he still listens whenever she tells him about this new idea for a story---and sometimes, he'll even jot some of it down and hide it in the library for her to find. Hero's a good friend.

-Stubborn and Contrarian are Opportunist's henchman (though, Oppy prefers the term "troublemakers for hire," since that gives the boys a bit of an ego boost), and they masquerade themselves as two of several workers who still work in the mines... all of whom are on Opportunist's payroll, but Stubborn and Contrarian are the only two they trust to do some of the dirtier work. Stubborn's always happy to get his hands dirty, but Contrarian... well, he's a bit of a goof, for one, and he gets more and more uncomfortable with the boss's plans as they go from just stealing gold from the mine to kidnapping the princess to attempting to murder the princess. This is partly out of a sense of conscience... and partly because Contrarian is head-over-heels in love with the princess's personal guard. And yes, those feelings are absolutely requited.

-Prisoner's horrible boss is Wraith (I debated Tower, but the role needs a crone), and the other employees of the dress shop are Nightmare---who also has dreams of being a stage diva, though is much more open about them---and Stranger, who's also trying to pay off an inherited debt. Stranger also has an older sister in Razor, who's taking a... less than legal avenue to paying off all that money, working alongside her longtime girlfriend-turned-wife (who's Adversary, obviously). While Prisoner considers Nightmare and Stranger to be friends, her closest allies are...

-Spectre and Cold are Wraith's grandchildren, and while they technically have a leg up on the employees due to, well, not having to slave away for years on end, they're still very much at the mercy of their grandmother, and both of them do little things for the dressmakers---sneaking them good food and personal affects, throwing little parties when their grandmother's on a trip, shaving off as much of the debt as they can without Wraith noticing---in short, everyone's eager for the day when the two finally take over the shop. Spectre and Cold are also very loyal friends to Prisoner, to the point where when Prisoner suddenly has to impersonate Damsel, Cold goes with her to pose as a guard... for her safety, of course, but also because he just wants to see what a palace is like.

-Smitten is the neighboring monarch who Damsel's in an arranged engagement with, and they're incredibly eager to meet and fall in love with their future bride---but their twin brother, Skeptic, is more than a little rankled by the whole situation, considering the sudden loss of the kingdom's wealth highly suspicious. It definitely doesn't help that when they arrive at the palace, Smitten somehow winds up spending way more time with a tall, dark, and smarmy palace guard who seemingly has zero decorum... and Skeptic, meanwhile, finds himself drawn to the princess's surprisingly blunt, frank, and cynical demeanor, and she seems to like him a lot more than his sibling. (I'm incapable of writing a Slay the Princess fic without Priskep. Sue me.)

-And last little thing (before I figure out how to cameo some of the others)---Happily Ever After is the queen, a once bright and optimistic ruler turned melancholic after the death of her husband and the hardship her kingdom has fallen under. She's poured her heart and soul into helping her kingdom and making sure her daughter is happy, but she's also exhausted... and that's caused her to overlook a lot of things that have been going on in the kingdom since before the mine collapsed. Not to mention, the very clear signs that her advisor might not be as trustworthy as they appear.

[livemusic77]

The old customs did not die,

they only waited in the shadows.

In every forgotten ritual,

there are echoes of those who never left.

[cursed-spectre]

Who I Am (Spectre Character Study)

Spectre found herself in a void. It was nothing new, yet this time it felt different. She could feel something akin to gravity, and when she looked down, she saw that she was standing, yet there was no ground. Every direction she looked in just showed more of the endless expanse.

“Oh gods, is this one of those nightmares the girls had?” She looked around more, and called out, “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” came a deep, distorted mimicry of Spectre’s own voice. “juSt Us.”

Spectre turned to the voice and saw… herself. But not how she was now. There was no young human girl in a miniskirt and heels. What stood in front of her was a vaguely humanoid shape, hunched over. Sharp, jagged arms looked to have erupted violently from its torso, which itself looked malnourished. It had no legs. Instead, the area where hips would be was a mass of tendrils that expanded far down the void to where the end wasn’t visible.

“Oh great, is this what Tera deals with?” Spectre facepalmed.

The distorted voice responded, “WE are nOt lIkE The MirRoR.” Its carved eyes shook, while its jaw unhinged with every word spoken, like a twisted puppet. “we ArE simply yOUr thOUGhTs TAKeN ForM.”

“Okay. Then what do my thoughts want??”

“Why dO yOu aSSUme THat PatHetIc form?”

“What?” Spectre raised her brow.

“WE ArE InFiNITe. We Can take Any fORM, BeComE AnYTHInG We WanT, AnD YEt YOU LiMIt yOurSelF tO ThiS WEaK Shape. morE ThAN That, you ActiveLY RestRain yoUrsELf.”

“I don’t restrain myself—”

“LIES!”

The void shook. Its distorted noise of a shout echoed off walls that were not there. It felt as if gravity itself had increased for a moment.

“Okay, yes. I restrain myself.” She peered into the shaking white orbs in front of her.

“whY? WE’vE lived fOR sO LOnG. wE’VE AcHiEvEd so mucH. WE…” Bones cracked as the figure’s form melted upwards. The void shook without end. Spectre tried to grab onto something, only to fall when nothing was found. “We…”

“Because I want t—”

“WE WERE GODS ONCE!!!” The distortion was gone. What now left the unhinged mouth was pure unbridled rage that bore into Spectre’s very essence.

“WE COULD DO ANYTHING WE WANT! WE COULD KILL ANYTHING WE NEED TO! AND YET YOU REFUSE TO BE WHAT WE ARE! NIGHTSTALKER ATTACKS COULD BE A THING OF THE PAST! WE COULD BE A DEITY TO THEM!”

“I don’t want to be a deity!”

“BUT WE ARE ONE! FOR MILLENNIA, WE HAVE BEEN THE GODS AND DEVILS ACROSS WORLDS. WE HAVE BEEN THE VERY FOUNDATION FOR EVENTS THAT HAVE SHATTERED UNIVERSES! AND YOU THROW THAT AWAY? FOR WHAT?”

“For a chance to live,” said a soft voice.

There, to the side of them both, stood a young teenage girl in a high school uniform. Her hair was long, coloured a soft lavender, and a few pink strands hung at the very right of her bangs. She opened her black eyes, and looked at them.

Static immediately filled Spectre's senses. She keeled over and screamed, holding onto her head as it threatened to split open.

“It’s okay, Spectre. You do not need to remember me. I am no longer around, after all.”

Spectre faced up. The static slowly subsided from her view. Her limbs followed suit shortly after. She groaned as she stood, grabbing the girl's hand the moment it was offered.

“I like your nails.” Spectre looked at the girl’s nails, a matching lavender to her hair.

“Thanks. I like yours, too.”

“IMBECILES! WHAT IS THE POINT OF ALL THIS?”

Sofie looked at the monster, furrowing her brow, and spoke loudly. “The point is to live. Being a god isn’t living.” Her face turned downwards, voice becoming a whisper. “It’s lonely.”

“wE HaVe LIved To The pOiNt wHeRe Time hOLdS No MEaning. iF it wAs so lonEly, WhY DIDN’T wE sTOP?” The creature extended its neck to look into Sofie’s eyes. “If wE WERe oNCe lIKE you, whY hAVe WE donE wHaT We hAve?”

Sofie opened her mouth, but it was Spectre who said, “Because I’d given up.”

She walked up to the monster, looking deep into its eyes with each step.

“I… We started to believe there was nothing we could change. The first, what, thousand attempts to help only to accomplish nothing was tiring.” She sighed. “I’m sure even Sofie would have some trouble continuing. But we aren’t Sofie. And so when nothing worked one way, we tried another.”

“anD WHEN WE DId, WE AcHIeVED sO mucH. peOPLE wORShiPPeD us as SAViouRS anD fEAreD us AS pUniShErS.”

“Was that us?” Spectre cocked her head. “Was it us that did that? Or was it someone else, just using our form? Are we the same person we were all that time ago?”

“cYN WOULd sAY YES.”

“And Cyn is dead.”

“we dON’t KNow tHAt For SURe. UNiVeRsEs dON’T dIE OVERnIGhT.”

Sofie raised her hands. “That isn’t important. What is important is why you changed again.”

Spectre continued. “Yeah, why we changed. You know the reason, too, right?” The figure growled. “Yeah, we were bored of making changes in worlds that always ended up feeling the same. So we decided to watch like spectators. Like those worlds were a story we weren’t part of. Because they were.”

“And you grew invested in their lives.” Sofie smiled. “You stopped jumping around worlds constantly, and focused on just a few. That added focus and time made them feel like more.”

“Yeah, and so we watched. We watched the story to its end before finding a new one. And it was always something different.”

It snarled. “WE KnOw WhAT YoU ArE tHinkIng.”

“Oh yeah?” Spectre smirked. “Then you can continue.” She walked up and pat the creature’s head.

It growled. “it CULMINatED iN heR. thE PILlbABy aND heR stOry. IT WAs CapTiVaTinG. wE doN't kNOW wHY, But it DOESN't mAtTER. THEN, aFTER SO LonG, We sAW HeR AgAin. OlDER, LIving wIth thOse ARouNd her WE DIDN'T KNOw. and wHEn We SAW other SpECTAtoRS tALKing TO theM—”

“We decided to as well. Even though we knew we couldn't change anything. But the interactions were enough for then. That false persona we made at first with emotions we believed we lacked. Well, it turned out to just be who we had forgotten we were.”

“aNd then We did chAnGE sOMeThiNg, anD The Gates oPened. wE couLD cHangE THings. We Could cHANGE oursElVeS.”

Spectre smiled. “Yet we still jumped worlds. Still used our abilities. And now, I’m living with them. Not as a visitor, but as a part of their world. I’m no longer leaving home to visit a world. I am home. It’s a new home, but home all the same.” She rubbed her head with sheepish laughter. “Ah man, I’m making no sense again, aren't I? But if you’re just my thoughts, then I'm sure you understand.”

The monster's neck receded as it moved close, its size reducing with every inch forward. No longer towering over them, it stood at eye-level, but its form remained the same. Spectre looked warmly at it, then her hand.

“But I have realized something, thanks to all these memories. I thought living among them meant being the same, and so I shunned using my more unique abilities." She closed her hand. "Now I realize that’s not the case. I want to live among them, but as myself, with all that entails. But I’m still keeping this appearance. I'll put in the effort to not be restricted to darkness anymore. Then one day, I'll be able to shift around while keeping my pretty nails and cute scarf.” The monster groaned at the sight of her grin. “No offence, but you don’t really have much of a visual identity. I’m staying like this. Cause I know for sure that this is who I am. Who Spectre Morgenstern is.”

“yoU Will neVeR forget whAt WE HAVE dONe. We CaNnOT LiVE InnocEntly. yEt You sTILL wish To pUrsuE ThAT LIfe, evEN aS thE knOwLEdGe EatS aT yOur mind? yOUR SanIty?”

“We can't, and it will. But what we can do, is make enough memories living to surpass the memories we have just existing.”

The monster sighed. “very Well. you KnOW We wIlL MEEt agaIN.”

“Yep. But I’m not alone anymore.”

It scoffed as it dissipated. “STUpid ClICHe BULLsH—”

When it was gone, Spectre looked at Sofie.

“Thanks.”

Sofie put her hands together behind her hips and grinned.

“Of course. And you don’t need to remember what I did. You have my soul, but you’re very much a different person to me.”

“True, but I think I’d still like to.”

Sofie shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. Bye bye, now.”

Sofie waved as she, too, dissipated. Spectre returned it, and when nobody else was left, she closed her eyes.

(I think this is my first character study, or at least, the first one I wrote intending to be like the character studies @dronebiscuitbat and @wolfesona have written. I really hope I did a good job. Spectre's story is still very much undeveloped, and I really hope that whatever I do make with her will be received positively. Really don't want to post a character study and then immediately be told Spectre is no longer fit to interact with Tera or Shuriken, lol. /joke)

(Also IDK how, but the first draft of this had 2k words, but when I finished editing it, it was down to 1.5k. TwT)

[tarisilmarwen]

Chapter Title: Tales of the Spectres: Sabine

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Rating: M

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

Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort

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

AO3, FFNet

@spectre-week

Some discussions of blood and injury, also angst.

Preview:

---

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

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

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

[notanodinarygirl]

@spectre-week

Day: Free

Type Of Submission: Video Edit

Song: Counting Stars (simply three version)

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

[spectre-week]

Spectres 1, 2, & 3 - Caleb Dume, Hera Syndulla, and Chopper - all met Clone Force 99 before they ever set foot on the Ghost!

Not only does that give us a few last minute ideas for Spectre Week, but we'd also liked to give a shoutout to @tbb-appreciation-week happening September 3-9, 2024. Prompt Voting is currently in the second round, and results/prompts will be revealed mid-June.

[skygirlstars]

teen Hera on Ryloth for Spectre Week day 2!

@spectre-week

[75-spectrekestis]

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

Rating: Teen and up

(Slight warnings for minor blood and underage drinking)

Relationships: Hera Syndulla & Ahsoka Tano

~

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

[whitecap-bay]

Day 5, Spectre 5 : Sabine Wren

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

@spectre-week