#white stormtrooper armor

[mofftarkinandglossurabbansquares]

MOFF TARKIN AND GLOSSU RABBAN SQUARES

🟨🟦🟥🟥◼️🟥🟦🟦🟥🟥

◼️🟦🟥🟦◼️◼️🟦🟦◼️◼️

SQUARE MILITARY RANK INSIGNIA MILITARY SALESMEN FROM OUTSIDE THIS CLUSTER OF GALAXIES

NO I DON'T WANT TO BUY ANY MORE STORMTROOPER ARMOR. I HAVE ENOUGH, THANK YOU.

[mydogatemymotivation]

Thinking about Kallus. Thinking about the Empire. Thinking about how a fascist dictatorship can take over the minds of a population. I think more people should think about Kallus' defection the way they think about leaving high demand religions or cults. (not trying to absolve him of the shit he did, I'm just thinking things) I'm not a cult expert or anything, but if you're on tiktok I'm sure you've come across knitting cult lady, she's a cult expert who was raised in the children of god cult and she's mentioned more than once that the US military (which she was also in) is a cult, but people don't like thinking about it like that. But we grow up with all the propaganda about the army and there are recruiters going to schools and doing pull up challenges and there are ads on tv about how honorable and noble joining the military is, and how much good the military does (like technology research, paying for your education, providing jobs, benefits, etc.) to make it seem like it's a benevolent thing to do. And I have to wonder if that's what growing up on Coruscant was like. Ads every commercial break about joining the Republic's Military Academy, recruitment stations, veterans days and memorial days and military appreciation month and whatnot, and from Kallus' perspective joining the military would've been seen as honorable from the jump. Just wearing his uniform out and about for whatever reason got him "thank you for your service" and everything.

Then when you join, men shave their heads and women don't (maintains rigid gender binaries and division within the cult) and rigid body standards are maintained as well. This is something the US military does, too. It doesn’t matter how good you are at your job if you don't look the part, you'll be trimmed down until you do. There are real service members who've left the service that have confirmed as much. And think about it, when is the last time you saw a US army commercial with someone who wasn't conventionally attractive or uber thin. Controlling food is a surefire way to keep people in line, dependent on your organization, and too weak to resist. Cult shit. Worth noting that storm trooper armor is rigid. As far as we can tell, there's no way to adjust the plating, expand it, restrict it, whatever. It must be worn at the size it comes in. Which means body size must be maintained no matter what your body wants to do naturally. Also Leia's famous "aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?", could be she was just trying to antagonize, could be she meant it literally. It's also worth noting that Kallus, like the stormtroopers, wears rigid plate armor. So the people who give him an eating disorder upon his defection, or the inability to regulate his own body's needs are exactly right.

Cults also have the 'skinny-white woman' near the top of the cult. It's the female counterpart to the cults patriarchal leader (doesn't have to be skinny, doesn't have to be white, it's just an archetype). I don't think the Empire has one specifically (maybe in legends, Mara Jade? but I don't know enough about legends, so I could be wrong), but I think that it's kind of broken up into different regions or sects, or there's more than one or something. Because if you look at Lothal, there's Thrawn, who is the local patriarchal leader of the cult, and Pryce, who is the 'skinny-white woman'. She has to defer to Thrawn despite being the Governor of Lothal and Thrawn being a 'guest' so-to-speak in the region. There's also the Grand Inquisitor (patriarchal leader) and Minister Tua (skinny-white woman) and Vader (patriarchal leader) and the 7th sister (skinny-white woman) (though she does kind of share her position with the 5th brother) throughout the series. Kallus always works for the patriarchal leader, and is usually equal to the skinny-white woman in the chain of command, but ISB seems to be its own entity, so he's not quite as dependent on that hierarchy as the other imperials on Lothal, which gives him some leeway that others don't have.

As for the harm he would cause. Yeah, he caused it. No one's denying that. But in the eyes of a Coruscanti, he was still just a vet. Probably had arguments about healthcare with the VA's office, would go home and have the narrative reinforced that he was doing the honorable thing, then would go back out into the field and try to maintain that slim grasp on what he was told was good. And I think this is why a lot of people are very uncomfortable with Kallus. Because he's a veteran and we all want our veterans to be taken care of and we all grill on memorial day and so on. And we don't want to think of our neighbors, and the women who've fought for the right to serve, and the queer people who've fought for the right to serve, as just abject bad guys. Like, yeah we'll critique the military industrial complex all day long, but our vets should be taken care of. Like they weren't all killing the same people for oil. And you can get online and wax poetic about how you're actually the special-special that always saw through all the lies and you think that all vets deserve to get spit in the eye. But no, you and I both know that's not true. I mean, George Lucas has confirmed that the rebellion is the Viet Cong, a militant leftist group that fought against the empire (Americans). And my grandpa fought in Vietnam. Or was it Korea. Or both. You see, I don't even know which one. You know why? I never asked. Either way, he got 'thank you for your service' and military discounts, and respect in his community, and blah blah blah. Because all of us are either directly in the cult of the US military OR directly affected by the cults' propaganda and then to see, accent aside, a US service member be blatantly evil and then acknowledge how blatantly evil he is, repent, turn around, and betray his home world, and the military industrial complex we've all been trained to love, makes us very angry because 'hey, you're not supposed to be self-aware'.

'Well, I don't love the military industrial complex, I'm the special-special >:(' ok what have you done that's helped destroy the military industrial complex other than complain about the healthcare vets receive and try to convince people not to use fireworks on the fourth of July. You benefit from colonialism. The US military is doing all the heavy lifting of colonialism globally allowing the US and Europe to benefit from ongoing systemic neo-colonial efforts, that's why the US military's budget is so overinflated.

'Well, Kallus still committed genocide,' so did your cousin that enlisted. In Star Wars, Anakin slaughtered a village of Tuskens and Padme married him and had children with him. Then he killed all the Jedi and Alderaan and got his redemption with Luke. Kylo Ren destroyed the entire Hosnian System and then got the girl. But yeah, those guys are space wizards and that distances them from real people so we don't think too hard about them. All the bad guys look like nazi ripoffs, so they're obviously evil and they stay evil for the most part, and all the good guys were always good guys. To us, at least. Sabine created a weapon that was designed specifically to slaughter her own people and their cultural heritage but that all happened off screen, so it's just interesting backstory for later. But Kallus? From space USA, not a wizard, and his about-face happened in real time for us. He looked right at us, holding up a mirror to us and our complacency and people had viscerally negative reactions to him, because we didn't like our own reflection. His redemption is so, so, so, so fascinating. Fascinating look at the US military. At least for me, I have so much fun doing analysis like this lol

I would've loved for Rebels to get into the weeds here, but I also understand why they didn't. He was a secondary antagonist from an animated kids show on Disney XD. So, naturally, they weren't going to get that in depth, especially with the military contracts that Disney has. I don't think they were planning on redeeming him at the beginning of the show. Sometimes characters kind of, come alive in a way, and say 'nu-uh, I wouldn't do that. Give me the pen, I'll write it,' and I very much get the feeling that's what Kallus did. If they had known from the beginning that they were going to redeem him, I think his backstory would've been different, but given the limited budget, and limited time, and the fact that he wasn't a main character, you know, these things happen. Real world stuff affects what happens in the writers room, and that's a bummer. But I'm also kind of happy I get to speculate and theorize the way I do. Like I said, it's fun. Anyway, I just think he's neat. I think his redemption is neat, and it was good enough for Zeb and his people, so it's good enough for me.

anyway, be nice. i'm just riffing to riff.

[david-talks-sw]

"If it's amazing, they'll know."

When talking about "George Lucas' vision" and the original six Star Wars films, there's one thing to bear in mind and that's Lucas' style of filmmaking.

These are movies for kids, designed to emulate the Saturday matinee serial format from the '30s, à la Flash Gordon. You see this most of all in the dialog. But something else you notice is George Lucas' filmmaking style, particularly in how he films and edits.

Take Darth Vader's introduction, for example.

Look at the composition: Vader stands tall, in contrast to the - as the script puts it - "fascist white armored suits of the Imperial stormtroopers". They're all in white, he's all in black, he's bigger badder, emerging from a cloud of smoke. What an entrance.

But if you think about it, it's just a single full shot. Very basic.

Compare this to Kenobi, wherein Vader is treated like a monster out of a horror movie. First, you glimpse his shadow, people reacting...

... then ominous bits and pieces like his boots or his lightsaber...

... and finally Vader himself, in all his terrifying glory.

That's a modern way of shooting it and it admittedly makes ol' Darth seem that much more imposing and absolutely badass.

But Lucas comes from a background of editing, experimental filmmaking and used to work as a documentary cameraman.

So what he did is just put the camera down and have Vader walk in. It's a faster yet differently-efficient way to introduce the character. It's more about dynamic pacing and visuals.

And that is Lucas' style. In his words:

"The way these films were put together, they're shot very much like a documentary film and the action of stage, and then I shoot around it. I don't stage for the camera. And as a result, there are a lot of things that happen pretty much by accident. It lends an aura of authenticity to everything." - Star Wars - Episode I: Podracing Featurette, 1999

Another example: the introduction of General Grievous.

A door opens revealing his ugly mug and he walks in. Boom.

But in Star Wars Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, you find that - as envisioned by the storyboard artists - our introduction to Grievous would've been very different.

"We wanted to have the introduction to Grievous be a series of really close shots that would be a series of details: his creepy foot, his creepy hand...

... his scary alien eyes...

... but George brought up an interesting point. He didn't want the film to concentrate on one design detail or one element— but rather let the world be there and let the viewer find those things without necessarily having it shoved in their face." - Derek Thompson, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

"George nixed the idea, saying: 'I don't want something to be special because of how it's filmed, but because of what it is. Just put the camera on it and let it play out in front of the audience. If it's amazing, they'll know.'" - Iain McCaig, SW Storyboards: The Prequel Trilogy, 2013

That's it in a nutshell. "If it's amazing, they'll know."

The above storyboards look awesome and seeing Grievous be introduced that way would be great... but it wouldn't be Lucas' Star Wars. It would be some other director taking a crack at it.

And this way of shooting can be weird, even boring, at times. I mean compare Mace leading his troops into battle...

... to Aragorn leading his, in Return of the King.

The latter is so much more emotionally impactful. For a number of reasons (eg: Aragorn is a deuteragonist, Mace is a secondary character with less development), but one of them is that the moment is just shot in a way that's more interesting.

First we have an angle on Aragorn as he smiles and charges. Then the rest of the other characters as they react and follow suit, then the troops do the same.

With Mace it's, uh, *checks notes* he flourishes his saber and charges, the clones follow. Hell, for half a second we're looking at just an empty screen.

But y'know what the shot does look like?

It looks like something out of a WW1 documentary.

It's that authenticity he was mentioning further up.

At the end of the day, you can call it campy or bad... it's Lucas' style. It's cinema. There's a logic to it.

"To me, the script is just a sketchbook, just a list of notes, and, sometimes, I prefer the documentary feel of free flow, so I let my instincts tell me where to go. I like to create cinematically; I don't like to have a plan. I like to have a rough idea of what I'm going to do-certain themes, certain issues I'm going to deal with-and then I try to do so." - The Making of Revenge of The Sith, page 116, 2005

He doesn't try to make a character look particularly badass with camera angles or make the shot too choreographed, he just goes with the flow, and makes the deliberate choice to shoot it that way, because for better or for worse... it's his movie.

So yeah, just a tidbit I thought would be interesting.

Edit:

@schilkeman added this very interesting point in the replies:

"He doesn’t stage for the camera, but he does compose for the camera. The documentary style, while somewhat detached, requires the filling of the screen with motion and light. The way things move through frame seem very important to him. These are things his films excel at."

[thetimetraveler24]

Opening the boarding the tantive iv Lego set wondering which bag the Fives mini figure is in.

Me: Bag one, no those are rebels.

Me: Bag two, ooooh I see white armor let me look at the helmet! Nope never mind that’s a stormtrooper.

Me: Okay not bag three. Not bag four.

Me: Bag five. Okay. Haha. Very cheeky, Star Wars.

Although tbh I don’t think Fives would have it any other way 😂

[verpineshatterrifle]

based off this post, i present to you an au maybe 5 people will understand!

mercs/501st/rebel legion repcomm au*

*all dramatics in this au are based off of the characters and their dynamics in the series, not real world people, i feel like i have to say this because i'm a currently acting mercs officer

kal is an alor'ad, vau is the ver'alor (no really, trust me on this), and gilamar is the ruus'alor

kal has been the alor'ad for like 15 years now. nobody ever wants to run against him and the entire clan is dreading the year he retires. he never wants to retire, he's going to be trooping when he's 90

kal is ex-military (and in the mercs' military/vet group), discharged when he got shot in the ankle. he works as a substitute high school teacher, so he's mostly retired and treats the mercs as his job. he does a troop at least once a month, usually more

kal joined the mercs straight out of the military because he needed some kind of community and a hobby to keep him busy. pretty quickly he went from Military Hard Ass to Mr Rogers

he's INCREDIBLE at running cons, coordinating between multiple organizations, figuring out booth setup, managing the table schedule, and generally keeps things running very smoothly

kal and vau FUCKING HATED each other at first. they only got away with constant bickering because the alor'ad at the time was jango, who did not give a shit about the 'conflict resolution' part of his job and dumped alor'ad duties on the first person who was willing to do it as fast as possible (this was kal- jango quit the month after kal got approved)

before kal joined, vau was good friends with jango, and he's pretty pissed with him initially for quitting and leaving THIS LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER in charge, but vau didn't want the job either, so

the main reason kal and vau hate each other is that vau's dad was an air force officer (vau never enlisted because his dad wouldn't let him) and kal was army. instead of being reasonable about this, they build about 18 stratified layers of resentment

all their beef is external- they actually agree on most things related to the costuming clubs. they eventually start to bond over being annoyed by the same things, and mutually caring about their other club members. they get drinks after a small troop once and talk it out, and because they dont have Kamino And Vau Almost Killing Atin fucking up their relationship, this actually works. everybody is SHOCKED when vau runs for ver'alor the next year

vau is very happy with being ver'alor because he doesn't mind doing paperwork and merch stuff and finances (all of which kal is... pretty bad at) and he gets to be involved with all decision making, but kal does all the Social Organizing (which vau is very bad at)

mird is a fuckass little white dog that vau puts in various star wars costumes for events

alternatively mird is a doberman or shepherd breed that vau still puts in star wars costumes. i couldnt decide

vau does not talk about what he does for work. everyone is scared to ask

gilamar is the ruus'alor because it is his job to tell everyone not to breathe in bondo fumes or resin dust. this is my entire reasoning

he is actually a veterinarian, not a human doctor. everybody asks him for medical advice anyways

rav hosts most of the armor parties, she owns a ranch house (and horses), and also hosts an annual bonfire party. parja lives with her.

the clones are mostly not biologically related, but all of them for some reason or another lack family connections and have latched onto the costuming groups for that community. kal hasn't legally adopted any of them (he met them all at least as late teens/adults) but most of them refer to him as their dad/grandpa

the nulls are all masters of the craft. they have like 4+ approved kits each across the mercs, 501st, and rebel legion. jaing has the most approved kits: 2 custom mandalorians, a rotj boba (the madman), an arc lieutenant, stormtrooper, sandtrooper, imperial officer, generic jedi, darth vader- (the list continues and he has more in the works. he also is in Droid Builders)

mereel only has less approved kits than jaing, he has more if you count his joke kits. approved he has a custom mandalorian, a darth vader, a general grievous (yes this is a thing, you stand in the cloak and puppet the grievous), and a generic clone

for joke kits, he has a Bedazzled Mando, Sexy Darth Vader, Sexy Boba, a halo mashup, Male Twi'lek Hooter, Rainbow Jedi, and more

a'den specifically likes making helmets and has an entire wall of just helmets

all the nulls have lighting and mechanical parts to die for (whistling birds that actually move into place, fog machine in the jetpack, motorized and lit rangefinder, programmed voice lines activated by glove gestures, blasters with lights and sounds)

mereel also made an e-web prop

bardan joined rebel legion first with a jedi and still sometimes wears it but as soon as he found out about the mercs he made armor and didnt look back

bardan's lighting and programming game is also insane, he also likes droid building and lightsaber hilt building/programming

bardan has only done his jedi and one mando, but he's constantly helping everybody else with their armor. he's at every armor party. he's the best tailor in the whole goddamn area

zey is some kind of regional command/app team for the rebel legion (im not familiar with their command structure sorryyyy) and does not want to wear armor because it's hard to put on and rough on your body and also difficult and expensive. he's very good as a regional officer. kal only drives him a little crazy sometimes, they generally work together very well

etain is rebel legion with a custom jedi, and she's had mando armor in the works for literal years. bardan is about to kidnap her for a weekend to get it done already. she loves building blasters and helped mereel with the e-web

bardan is the clan's jor'alor (runs social media). before he joined that was vau's job. vau is ASS at social media and kept posting his dog. bardan actually would prefer to be the ru'cabur but he can't give social media control back to vau, it would be a disaster, so he's just also unofficially doing ru'cabur stuff (historian, lore expert)

at cons bardan usually runs a mandalorian history panel and includes a Mando'a Crash Course section where he gets the audience yelling phrases. he gets to nerd out to an actually interested audience for about 45 minutes, while wearing mando armor, with a power point. this is ideal for him

laseema has a twi'lek mando but prefers to handle rather than troop, she only wears her armor 2-3 times a year

i could go on but tbh if you read all of that already ily

[jessicas-pi]

I just came up with a hc that makes the sequel trilogy 200x funnier.

What if Rey and Finn are both students at Luke's academy and the whole sequel trilogy is just Rey, age 8, making up a crazy wild fantastic adventure story to tell to her bestie Finn, age 9, while they're being watched by Poe, age 12, (who is visiting the Jedi academy because his mom is friends with Leia) and Ben, age 11?

Hear me out.

ST!Rey is a desert orphan because lil Rey WAS a desert orphan before Luke found her. The reason Rey learns to be a Jedi so quickly in the ST is because lil Rey is telling a cool story about herself!

Finn is a stormtrooper, because once he met Captain Rex and thought he was really cool and he wants to have white armor too, so Rey makes him a Stormtrooper who turns good and rescues Poe.

Poe jumps in on Rey's story at the beginning to wax poetic about himself being the best pilot in the galaxy, and Rey tries to one-up him by making her story-self fly the Milennium Falcon through a star destroyer.

Ben keeps hijaking her story to try to kill off everyone so he can leave, so he's obviously the villain. Rey keeps trying to make him have a redemption arc to no avail. At the very end he just gives up, says "okay FINE i turn GOOD and help you save the day BUT THEN I DIE", and he leaves.

Luke is a grumpy island hermit in the ST because lil Rey is annoyed with him because he wouldn't teach her to try to float an X-wing (something totally out of her skill level) and so she's like "and then i went to the ISLAND and met LUKE and he wouldn't teach me AAAAANYTHING!"

Poe makes up the scene where Han gets stabbed because when Ben was 2 he accidentally stabbed his dad with a fork and Poe thinks it's hilarious to keep bringing it up.

Rose is a friend of theirs who visits for just long enough to get Rey to throw a gratuitous space-horse subplot into the plot of TLJ cause Rose is a space-horse-girl, but then she has to leave so Rey writes her out of the plot of TRoS.

Anything else that doesn't make sense about the ST is just because it's a story told by an 8 year old girl who's here for a good time and doesn't really care if it's realistic, because it's fun and that's more important.

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 14

Vader x Reader

a/n: so sorry for the delayyy rahhh i’ve been traveling for the holidays!! i’ve been cranking stuff out tho so dw!!! i’ve been working on enigma, allow me, and line cook ani pt 2 heheh also unconditionally epilogue// also words in font like this means vader is using the force to speak- not his normal voice

How much longer will it be before you hear from Lord Vader again? is he safe? is he alright?

warnings: cursing, angst, harm, medical procedures, cannon typical violence

_____________________

After what seemed like days of stumbling around fighting off any enemy he came against, Vader finally obtained a ship. It wasn’t much, but at least he was able to jump start it. As soon as he got the engine going- he set in coordinates for Hoth. 

He was absolutely exhausted in every way someone could be; mentally, physically, emotionally… Not only did his broken body ache, but his mind raced with thoughts of what his master would do next if he were to defy him. Would he really be replaced? 

As he flew the small ship towards the icy system, the failure of his suit became increasingly evident. After using so much energy and power from the force to fend off bounty hunters and fight opponents (all while his suit was damaged and with makeshift limbs), he was so completely exhausted that he could barely stay conscious as he drifted through space. 

The flesh parts of his legs throbbed uncomfortably- the makeshift prosthetics weren't made to cushion his walk so he was putting too much pressure on his poor stumps. He desperately wanted to put the ship on auto pilot but sadly, it did not have that feature.

So he begrudgingly adjusted himself in the pilot seat and desperately tried to stay awake. 

___________________________________

Your anxiety was through the roof the past few days; not only had you heard nothing from Vader or when he would return, but the Emperor seemed as if he were observing you much more closely now. 

Thankfully you had finished your main tasks for the day and retired to your quarters earlier than normal (not that that really meant anything special. You were still just going to overthink).

You laid down and observed the same ceiling you had been looking at for months, only this time you were worried about Vader. 

You pleaded with the force that he was ok and would return safely. You would rejoice once you knew he was safe and finally with you again. Would he feel the same about you?

____________________________________

The sight of his docked ship took an enormous weight off of Vader’s chest; he was back. He would no longer have to wonder how he’d get back or have to worry about conserving his energy. 

He landed the ship as best as he could, but it was a rough landing; he had to opt for a landing in the snow. Once the ship was powered off, he slowly pulled himself out of the cockpit. 

The freezing temperatures of the frigid planet whipped at his exposed skin and made his metal joints creaky. He was shutting down. His legs were barely able to hold his weight anymore- he was completely drained.

Even though he wanted so desperately to call to you through the force, he just couldn’t muster the energy. 

Before he knew it, his world went black and he was left lying, face down, in the thick layers of snow. 

Thankfully some stormtroopers saw his bumpy landing and came to check out the commotion. Without them he would not have made it back. 

“Uhhh- You might wanna take a look at this” one of the white armor clad men said to the other. 

“Lord Vader?!”

“Yea…. we should probably get him inside” another chimed in. 

“Right away! We need to get him to the med chamber”

_______________________________________

You had taken a stroll around the living quarters to try to get your mind off of things (it wasn’t working), sadly everything in the damn ship just screamed Vader- it was his ship, after all. 

As you walked the halls, a large group of troopers marched down the hall opposite to you.

They seemed rushed- their matters must have been important. 

You thought nothing of it initially (There was always some drill or task they were running around to complete), but you froze when you heard it. 

“Lord Vader is back”

“Really? Where is he?” a second asked. 

“We’re pretty sure he's in the med bay- probably being checked for wounds” the first added. 

You didn’t need to hear anymore, before you were off.

You rushed to the med bay where he was being held for assessment by the medical droids and Vanee.

You punched in the security code and swiped your card quicker than you ever had before and breathlessly entered the dark room. 

You didn’t expect to see a pillar of light in the middle of the pitch black room; once your eyes adjusted you realized the pillar was actually a large bacta tank… with a limbless figure strung up in the middle, a sight you had never seen. 

As you squinted you realized you recognized that face- it was Vader in there.

Was he injured so badly as to lose the rest of his limbs? No- you looked closer and his amputations seemed to be old wounds- you knew he had some prosthetics, but you didn’t realize he had lost all of them. 

He floated in the healing liquid, only suspended by a black harness. The slight movement of the water softly carried his body up and down.

You observed more and noticed how muscular he was, his shoulders were just as broad even outside the suit. As much as you wanted to linger your gaze on his body, you felt that it was not the time to marvel at his impressive physique.

You began to walk forward to get a better look at his injuries when a pale faced man ran at you; “Get out! Do not dare disturb the Lord as he heals!” the elder screamed at you, which caused Vader to weakly open an eye. 

Once he saw that it was you he panicked for a moment- he didn’t want you to see him like this… he wasn’t ready.

Surely you were frightened of him now, surely you couldn’t hold him in the same regard as you did before. 

A look of worry found itself onto your face as you saw Vader’s scared face, but soon the pale man started getting violent with you.

He pulled, pushed, and even began to scratch you with his long nails but you wouldn’t budge, you needed to make sure Vader was ok. 

Vanee, Stop.

What was that?

The pale man ceased his attack and stepped aside, “but my lord, she is-”

Let her be and leave us.

Vader was speaking through the force. 

Vanee nodded and scurried out of the dark room. 

Once it was just you and Vader left, you walked towards the glass tube and rested your palms against the cool surface. 

“V? Are you going to be ok?” you asked with a  small voice. 

I will be, i’m so sorry

both of his eyes were open now.

“Sorry for what V?” What was he talking about?

I didn’t want you to see me like this

You were no medic so all you could offer Vader was your company and support as he endured a painful recovery process.

“Oh, Vader… please do not worry about that- I want you to focus on healing” you said softly as you pressed a gentle hand on the glass of the tank. 

You felt a warm sensation wash over you and embraced the familiar force signature of the Sith; he was connecting with you the only way he could. 

Thank you

_____________________________

You stayed by Vader’s side until he was done with his soak; the two of you were silent for the most part- for you it was just comforting to be in his presence once more. 

Near the end he opened up about the past few days in small bits (you probably wouldn’t ever get the full story).

He briefly explained why his master sought to punish him and to you, it was an impossibly stupid reason. 

You were disgusted by the Emperor- he tortured Vader for teaming with someone he thought fit to be an ally. Then Palpatine went so far as to destroy Vader’s prosthetics and dump him back onto the shores that once scarred him all those years ago.

If Vader weren’t as strong as he is… he surely would have died. 

Palpatine is a cruel man. 

W-would you help me lie down?

“I would rather you help me than the droids,” he admitted in his modulated voice.

You nodded and walked closer to the glass.  

“Press that button and lift that switch” he guided you towards an operating panel that would drain his tank. 

Once you had that done you went to search for some towels to dry him off with. He was left hanging from his harness with an embarrassed feeling.

The glass tube retreated below the floor and he was gently lowered to the platform; you laid a soft towel down and had another in your hands as you received his tired body. 

You guided his body into your lap and held him in your arms once he was finally released from the suspending cords that attached to the harness around his torso.

He was so light in your arms compared to what you had expected; he was muscular, but the more you thought about it, he only had a torso, a head, and four stumps. 

He allowed you to assist him to the steel examination table in the next room over. You could tell he was ashamed of his body and inability to do basic tasks in his state, but you quietly reminded him that you only wanted to help. 

“Would you like me to unbuckle your harness? Or do you just want to keep it on, I assume you’ll be going back in the tank soon” You offered softly.

To your surprise, he shook his head- “No, my master won't allow me to soak again today until much later. Are you sure you would be comfortable touching… me?” He added the last part in pity. 

You scowled at his master’s instructions, but your eyes softened when you answered him, “Vader, I have pledged myself to you, have I not?”.

“Y-yes?” he replied softly.

“Then you have nothing to worry about- You have nothing to be ashamed of,” you said.

Your words seemed to relax him slightly and he exhaled shakily before shutting his eyes.

You stayed by his calming him, helping apply cooling creams to his new burns, and helping him with the oxygen mask.

It hurt to see the one you loved in such a crestfallen state, but at least he was alive. 

Once he was a bit more stable he spoke again.

“thank you, proceed”. 

The ends of his limbs had metal ports that looked warped; to your best knowledge they must have been welded to another type of metal and then had to be cut off. 

You jumped a little when you saw Vader begin to move his scarred legs from you; he refused to meet your gaze. 

“It’s alright- I’m just examining your ports- I may be able to design new ones for you since these ones definitely won’t be able to connect to your new legs” you said in an attempt to quell his worries. 

His eyes relaxed and he began to blink slowly again. 

Thank you

He was speaking through the force again; his energy must have been depleting. 

“No need to thank me V. I would do anything for you” you smiled softly before leaning in to kiss his temple. 

_______________________

You worked on crafting new ports for Vader’s prosthetics to attach as he rested; you offered to leave and work in the workshop, but he insisted (more like begged) you to stay with him.

You had the transport droid he gifted you, bringing up the materials and your toolkit so you could start working as you sat with him. 

Though, Vader did sense the surrounding area first to make sure Palpatine wouldn’t make a surprise visit- having you in his chambers would not be a good scene for the emperor to see. 

You knew if Palpatine was so cruel as to make Vader relive his past trauma and suffering, he would definitely have no problems involving you in a nefarious scheme to get Vader to react in a certain way. It was beyond fucked up.

Soon you had finished his arm’s ports and walked over to the bed you laid him on.

His eyes were closed and a few tubes carrying nutrients and oxygen peeked from under the covers you placed over him. 

You could hear his damaged throat rasping with every breath he took; you wanted nothing more than to take all of his pain away.

This was the longest you had ever seen him out of his suit and the only time you had ever seen his whole body. 

He was covered head to thigh in poorly healed scars and new burns from his most recent brush with the unforgiving lava planet.

His chest and back had a few unnatural ports for his suit to connect his life support to, but other than that he was flesh (except for his organs, of course). 

But sadly you would have to wake him from his slumber soon since he was supposed to be back to his duties in two days ...The Emperor heartlessly expected an impossibly speedy recovery- obviously that was just an outrageous request, but Vader couldn’t protest. 

You knew the wounds that littered his face had been “healed” for years, but as you went to brush his forehead you hesitated.

Should you be touching him without his permission?

Seeing him outside of his suit seemed like you were gazing upon something sacred. Something you shouldn't.

Gently you placed a gentle hand on his cheek and waited for him to open his eyes. You bit your lip before placing your other hand on his other cheek. 

“Vader,” you whispered.

Still nothing. 

Slowly and carefully, you leaned down to place a tender kiss on his scarred forehead- that woke him up. 

His yellow eyes opened abruptly-but when he felt it was you, he closed them once more. The next time he opened them, his eyes were the cerulean blue you had been chasing since the first time you saw them. 

He let his guard down when he was with you. 

You smiled at the man and gave him another peck. You pressurized the chamber so that he could be without the uncomfortable mask.

Gently you lifted his head and took the hard device off of his face.

“Vader, I have your arm ports and arms ready for you- The arm’s are just temporary, but I assumed you’d rather have some for now instead of none at all,” you explained softly. 

He gave you a long blink to indicate his agreement before his brow bone furrowed and looked towards the cold table that stood in the harsh lighting only a few feet away. 

“We do have to go there so that the doids can remove your warped ports” you said solemnly. 

You knew he hated procedures, but he also knew they were a necessity. His chest rose and fell before he indicated he was ready. 

“I could carry you over- or I can get the transpor-”

“Transport” his voice rang through the force. 

You figured so. 

He wasn’t quite comfortable being that vulnerable and you could understand that. You nodded, started up the pod, and left the room so he could complete the transfer in peace.

You felt the vibrations when he called for your return and promptly entered once more. 

Vader was now lying uncomfortably on the sterile silver table; only his boxers covered his lower half. You stepped into the light and took out the tools that would be used to remove his broken ports. 

This too had two options; you could take them off of him quicker than a droid could, but then you would be the one causing him pain- or it could take longer and hurt more, but a droid would be doing it.

Vader also knew this and could sense your dilemma. 

You.

You sucked in a breath- you really didn’t want to do this, but it would cause him less pain (even if it didn’t seem to). 

You shakily nodded and picked up the instrument that would be used to pry off his damaged port.

The process was simple, use a small beam to cut around the port to loosen it up and then use an instrument to pry the warped metal off.

The beam would be painful without numbing medicine (which Palpatine removed all of…), so Vader would have to endure the pain full throttle. Once again you cursed the pale man. 

Thankfully you had a spur of the moment idea- you called for a small droid to collect some snow and ice from the banks of Hoth (where you were still stationed).  

Vader looked at you curiously. 

“There’s no numbing cream here and I don’t want you to feel the sting so I’m going to numb your arm with ice water”. 

His eyes widened and he managed a small smile, “Thank you”

You nodded, “Of course, but it will be uncomfortable to put your arm in the water” you explained to which he simply nodded. 

Once the droid returned and you prepared the ice bath, you helped Vader to the edge of the table so that you could submerge his stump. 

“On three; one, two, three…” you counted before pushing his warped ligament into the freezing water. 

His body lurched and he gasped as the frigid sensation coarse through his arm. You bit your lip to steady yourself, his arm needed to stay completely submerged for the numbing to work. 

“I’m sorry V” you said as his muscles twitched all over his scarred body. 

Soon time was up and you quickly pulled out his arm, dried it off, and grabbed the precision laser. You put on some goggles and began to outline the end of his stump. As you rounded the port you could smell a mix of heated metal and flesh. 

Even so often you glanced up to see his face, thankfully he really had no reaction and nothing in his force signature indicated pain- your method was working. 

The port was completely cut and you began to pry it off. You hated the feeling of his skin being used as leverage to pull his cybernetic part off.

Once the metallic connector was off, his stump was simply irritated, scarred flesh with screw slots to hold his ports in place. 

His stump was warm to the touch so you decided to cool him in water once more (just to be safe).

In only a few more minutes his new port was secured and you helped put his temporary prosthetic on. 

He tested the limb with great relief. 

“Was that ok?” you asked worriedly. 

He nodded and caressed your cheek with his new arm; to which you leaned over the table to kiss him. 

________________________

You finished up the other arm before you stopped for the day- he didn’t really need his legs done until tomorrow and you weren’t going to be able to do those since they were literally welded into his flesh from how close he was to the lava. 

So once you cleaned everything up, and got him back into bed, you took your seat once more. Your eyes felt heavy as you sat back in the stiff chair; just as you were drifting off to sleep you heard a weak voice. 

Was that Vader?

No- it wasn’t the normal modulated voice you had come to love, but it also wasn’t the familiar voice of his force signature. 

“W-wil you…” 

There it was again! You promptly rose to your feet and surveyed the dark room.

“Who’s there?” you demanded.

Soon you felt a weak pull towards Vader’s bed… it was him- it was his voice. 

You knelt by his bedside and took a metallic hand in yours. Never had he sounded so weak.

His vocal chords were completely damaged, he could barely speak above a whisper, and it sounded painful to speak. 

“P-please..” he attempted before a coughing fit attacked him. 

You brushed his face and cooed, “shh-shh, Don’t speak- I’m right here. It’s ok”. 

He swallowed with great effort before conveying his request, “Lie with m-me… Please-”.

“Are you sure, I don’t wanna worsen your injuries-”

He shook his head and beckoned you once more. Looking at his desperate face, how could you refuse. Carefully you lifted the covers and entered the bed with caution; once you were under the covers he quickly pulled you closer to him, making you gasp. 

Once the shock wore off, you relaxed in his arms and began to drift off. 

_________________________

Vader’s burns stung with every movement, but nothing could stop him from hugging you close.

He wanted nothing more than to stay with you like this forever.

He was exhausted, but somehow having you here kept him invigorated. 

He found himself pressing his scarred lips to your temple as you dozed off in his mechanical arms. Once you were fast asleep, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from your beautiful face. 

Maker… What were you doing to him? 

He was falling in love-

No, he was in love. 

Everything about you lit up his world; your smile, your sweet voice, your soft touch, your intelligence, your passion… just you. 

He could imagine a future where you and him ruled the galaxy, side by side. 

Or

One where the two of you left everything behind and completely started over. 

Either way he knew he would be happy because he knew that as long as he was with you, everything would be alright. 

***

a/n: i love love love whump :) as u can see hahah- i hope this chapter was good and sorry again for the delay 😭 thanks for the support:)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger r @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

[bluetoothschizophrenic]

The Imperial Irregulars:

Group of former Imperials who formed a mercenary company after the fall of the Empire. Based out of their modified Arquitens light cruiser, the Ember, they’ll run missions for whoever is willing to pay. Although for whatever reason, they have a bias toward Imperial remnant or other pro-Imperial clients.

Origins: Formed by one TK-509, aka Sergeant Graham in the aftermath of the Imperial Civil War (Dark Empire). CO lost his mind, tried to fly the ship into a star. Graham lead a mutiny, tried and failed to link up with several nearby Imperial remnant groups, and turned to mercenary work to keep the ship afloat.

Equipment: Due to the nature of their operation, uniformity is functionally impossible. Most are outfitted in some combination of various trooper armors. Parts from stormtroopers, shoretroopers, scouts, even TK and Death trooper armor. Weapons are more standardized, E-11s, A280s, EE-3s, DC-15s in a pinch, several death trooper E-11D carbines, and for special occasions, 3 T-6 ion disrupters.

For his part, Sergeant Graham is outfitted in an elite squad (Crosshair’s troopers) helmet, a white stormtrooper pauldron, and a mix of stormtrooper and death trooper armor pieces.

Second in command Lieutenant Kuiper joined up with a group from a far flung Imperial outpost shortly after the group’s founding, adding their IDT transport to the Ember’s repertoire. For their armor, they wear a tank trooper helmet, orange stormtrooper pauldron, and a mix of scout and stormtrooper armor.

The Ember: She’s a very well worn ship, with extensive modifications and mismatched parts. Most chiefly visible is her unique addition of a P-Tower laser turret in place of one of her upper guns, as well as an old Republic gunship beam turret built into the spine holding up the bridge. Other mods include more bunks, less standard mess hall, a small repair bay in the onboard hangar, and a widening of the hangar entry for easier access. Engines don’t burn the same Imperial blue they used to either on account of worse fuel, now burning the standard yellow. Weapons still fire the standard imperial green however, imperial remnants keep them well stocked in that regard.

Fighter compliment: The Ember has held onto her original Lambda shuttle, now affectionately called the Sparrow by her crew, and owing to the brown and yellow paint applied to the tips of the wings and cockpit and lining the body of the ship. All weaponry has been removed, engines heavily upgraded, and interior made far more comfortable. Used primarily for ground transport and supply runs. Kuiper’s IDT, nicknamed the Silver Lemon on account of its constant repair needs, serves as combat transport and (when it works) close air support. The Ember’s original fighter compliment has been long since scrapped or destroyed, but the Irregulars assembled a patchwork of Mining Guild Tie Fighters, a Tie Bomber turned into a DIY Tie Punisher, and a pair of Tie Interceptors outfitted with warhead launchers and very temperamental hyperdrives.

MO: Generally deployed in small scale pacification operations, flushing out pirates, or just as hyperlane guards for imperial governors or warlords too resource strapped to do it themselves. Forcibly pressed into service by Deep Core warlords more than once, now refuse to operate in that area. Performed scouting in the unknown regions for imperial clients, the new republic, and unknown benefactors that paid via hologram. Due to the resource intensive nature of naval combat, they prefer ground based jobs, but have shot down a pirate frigate or three in their day. Graham and Kuiper are die hard imperial loyalists, but not stupid enough to only take imperial money. The rest of the crew is a lot more mixed, but nobody joins an imperial merc company because they hate the Empire.

[off-brand-likes]

Febuwhump Day 20: I did good, right?

Another take on how Hera and Kanan met Zeb.

Kanan leaned over Hera's shoulder, keeping most of his body behind the shed where they were hiding. "I don't think we can help these people."

Hera's sigh vanished under the tramp of stormtrooper boots on the packed gray sand of this little mining outpost's main street. "Our original plan won't work, that's for sure."

She pushed Kanan back with a hand on his chest until the shed fully hid both of them. "We'll go back to the Ghost and wait for nightfall." Hera nodded toward the flat patch of sand between gray dunes where she'd landed the Ghost, out of the locals' sight, just in case of a situation like this one. "Then we can sneak back here and find someone to tell us what resources the people have to defend themselves with."

"Against that many stormtroopers?" Kanan pointed at the shed like Hera could see through it to the sun glinting off rows of parading stormtroopers' helmets. "There's no way. If we stick around here, we're just gonna get caught. Let's go back and tell your contact to update their information before they send us into another time-wasting trap."

Hera frowned. "If we can help someone, it's not--"

A roar, lots of shouting in Basic, and clattering stormtrooper armor made Hera poke her head out from behind the shed again. The orderly lines of stormtroopers had become a confused crowd scrambling away from somebody large and purple in their midst.

The person was almost as broad and tall as a Wookiee. He, Hera guessed, wore the goggles and orange and khaki uniforms of the mining company that kept this outpost alive, but his clawed hands and and feet were bare. That didn't stop him from punching, smashing, and flinging any stormtrooper he got ahold of.

"Kanan, look, this guy is amazing!"

Kanan peered over her shoulder. "An amazing distraction we do not need to get mixed up in. Let's go."

"Open fire on the Lasat," shouted a stormtrooper officer in the street.

Kanan flinched. "No," he groaned, so quietly she was pretty sure he hadn't meant her to hear. He backed up until the shed hid the stormtroopers from his sight.

In the street, blaster bolts started flying. The Lasat, apparently, was moving too fast and too close to the other stormtroopers to be an easy target. Hera and her single blaster wouldn't take down enough troopers to save the Lasat. The few locals peering out of windows and doorways along the street didn't look like they'd be much help either.

The Lasat grabbed a stormtrooper's ankle with his bare foot, flipped the trooper into the air behind him, and caught the trooper around the neck with a hand, leaving the trooper dangling at his back like an armored, living shield.

He snatched the trooper's blaster rifle and fired back, single handed, and the disordered mass of troopers. Another rifle was on his back, waiting to use when the power pack on the stormtrooper's ran out. Maybe he didn't need any help.

A stormtrooper's blaster bolt hit a metal power box beside the Lasat. It sparked, then flashed white. Hera ducked behind the shed as the bang reached her position. A chunk of metal the same color as the power box bounced over the packed sand, past the shed.

When Hera leaned around the corner of the shed again, the Lasat lay on the packed sand beside his battered stormtrooper shield. The Lasat patted the ground like he was looking for the blaster rifle which lay just beyond his reach. The stormtrooper wasn't moving at all.

Hera couldn't just watch him die. She drew her blaster from its holster. "I'll get their attention and run them toward the other end of the outpost. Kanan, bring that Lasat to the Ghost. I'll meet you there." Without waiting for an argument, she ran toward the stormtroopers, firing as she went.

Even if Kanan tackled Hera to the ground, the stormtroopers would arrest them. And if he let her get shot at for nothing, her silent treatment would be painful even before she started relaying messages through her overprotective astromech. Kanan could stay in this miserable little occupied mining outpost, or he could go pick Hera's new idol off the ground before a stormtrooper took a break from chasing her to shoot him.

Grumbling, Kanan ran from behind the shed, heading for the fallen Lasat. The Lasat was struggling to stand. Blood streamed down his head and stained his mining uniform as he lost his balance and collapsed onto the packed sand. Kanan wasn't looking forward to carrying someone that big.

By the time Kanan reached the Lasat's side, all the stormtroopers who could still run had followed Hera to the next street over. Blaster bolts flashed on the other side of the buildings that lined this street, in the opposite direction of the Ghost. The Lasat's ears flicked toward Kanan as he knelt to get a read on the Lasat's injuries.

The Lasat was bleeding from a gash on the back of his head. Blood matted the short fur on his scalp and neck. A matching smear of blood stained the wall behind him. The power box explosion must've thrown him into it.

In a voice rough with pain, the Lasat said something Kanan didn't understand. The last time Kanan heard words like those, Master Tapal had spoken them in the Jedi temple. Hearing those sounds from this injured Lasat made something twist up tight in Kanan's chest.

"I hope you know Basic too," Kanan said. "I've gotta move you somewhere safe, and I don't want you taking my head off for my trouble."

"I did good, right?" the Lasat slurred in accented but understandable Basic.

Kanan glanced over his shoulder at the stormtroopers slumped against walls, lying in the street, or crawling back toward their new garrison on the other end of the outpost. Between the Lasat's assault and Hera's timely intervention, there wasn't a single one left standing.

"Yeah, big guy, you did." Maybe Hera was onto something with this stranger. Kanan had a good feeling about him, too. "Now let's get you off the street before those stormtroopers come back."

Kanan had to use a narrow stream of Force to supplement his own muscles while he lifted the Lasat to a standing position. The Lasat growled, "Wait a tic." He fumbled behind him, between his shoulder blades. As soon as the Lasat's fingers touched the strange rifle on his back, the furry arm Kanan had looped over his own shoulders relaxed.

"Okay." The Lasat was still slurring his words, and his green eyes weren't focusing right, but his legs held him up through his and Kanan's first steps toward the Ghost. "I'm Zeb, by the way. Where are we going?"

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

The Moon's Lies (2)

Summary: Kylo Ren x named!Reader. It was never going to be black or white, Light or Dark, friend or foe. Who wouldn't let the galaxy burn to keep their loved ones safe?

Warnings: 18+, unspoken threat of bodily harm, twisted morals, Kylo Ren being himself, vehicle wreck

Masterlist

Canon Divergence Notes: There is no Rey. Finn is the destined Jedi, and he leaves the scar on Ren’s face during the climactic fight on Starkiller Base. The only original canon kept after TFA is the destined Jedi (Finn) leaving to find Luke and Snoke pushing Kylo Ren to the breaking point, continuing the student-kills-the-master cycle. Summary: No Rey. Finn is training to be a Jedi. Kylo Ren takes the throne from Snoke.

A/N: All hail the new alpha/beta reader! Three cheers for @aralezinspace! And thank you all for the support so far. <3 You make my galaxy spin.

2.

Years ticked by with battles fought, secrets found, and the rise of a new Supreme Leader to the throne of the First Order. Matters of life and death. To some.

Dyrrine judged the political upheaval like the weather. Rarely dangerous, but often an inconvenience. She couldn’t control it, and she worried more about sheltering her family from the rain than forming opinions about it.

At the moment, however, as mud sucked her boots down to the ankle and cold drops rode the wind to blast under her hood, she felt a lot of ways about the rain. Literally and figuratively.

Of course her responsibilities took her to Dantooine during the rainy season. And, of course, the First Order had no interest in accommodating the long line waiting for permits and passes.

Most of the year, Dantooine was lovely. Dry. Fairly temperate. Dyrrine would’ve enjoyed being off the ship and soaking in some sunshine while the rusty wheels of bureaucracy slowly groaned along. Instead, she dreamed of hot cups of tea and kept her hands stuffed deep in her wide sleeves as the queue inched forward, bowing under the storm’s onslaught. There were so many people still ahead of her, and she could barely see the service window through the downpour.

Good thing she’d reserved a seat on the next morning’s shuttle. She’d never make the evening flight. If things didn’t pick up, she might not reach the end of the line before the offices closed. Then she could do this all again at ass’o’clock in the morning, standing in a fresh downpour in day-old clothes without even the marginal warmth of the sun. What fun.

Off to the right, the depot’s primary doors slid open, spilling light into the miserable, sludgy afternoon. Stormtroopers in gleaming white armor stomped out, far too many for a patrol, and the eyes of every civilian turned their way. No one dared watch openly, but they peeped, and shrank, and waited. The ‘troopers formed two lines, facing each other to create a kind of path between the depot and the small collection of shuttles and TIEs left outside the hangar.

No wonder the administration was doing such a spectacular job that day. They had a VIP to entertain.

Dyrrine looked down at her feet, trying to work them free of the muck as the Adarian in front of her inched forward by half a pace. She had her priorities; keeping her place in line without losing a shoe was higher on her list than some First Order crony with extra polish on his boots.

One foot popped free with a noise like a belch, confirming Dyrrine’s belief the planet was trying to eat her. The second foot came loose by inches, and she was so consumed with keeping her balance she didn’t register the growing chill until the source stood in the open doorway.

Foot free, a step forward, and sinking into a new swatch of muck, she felt the menacing aura of a wildly powerful Force user. One didn’t need to be Force sensitive necessarily for animal instincts to register a threat, especially when said threat just loved to make a scene, to infect the very air with fear so every lesser creature would stay bowed low – where they belonged. She glanced back to the main entrance as the towering figure in black started down the ‘trooper-lined path, and her blood turned to ice.

She didn’t know his face – not this one, anyway. Last time they’d met, he’d hidden behind a chrome scowl, but his lightsaber was unmistakable, and kriffing hell if she didn’t remember that. It swung from his belt, bulky cross guard hilt on full display. The faint burn it once left along her neck took a week to heal, and this time there was no one to call him away before he introduced her to the blade properly. He was no one’s attack dog anymore. He’d slipped the chain and brutalized the fool holding the leash.

Kylo Ren. The new Supreme Leader.

The downpour suddenly didn’t feel like enough. Blinking away drops clinging to her lashes, she prayed for a flood, for the water to fall in sheets to curtain her from view, for the mud to gulp her down whole. Her gaze snapped back to the ground, hoping as she studied the trembling puddles that her spike of anxiety blended into the frightened crowd. What was one more terrified civilian in a sea of faces?

She resisted the urge to tug her hood lower. That would draw attention, tell anyone looking that she wanted to avoid being seen very, very badly. It took far too much attention to breathe, and she fought to release the mote of panic burning bright in her chest. No need to snuff it out. Just let it free. Like a firefly – still very real, but out and away from her thoughts. Drifting farther and farther, leaving a quiet void in its wake.

She was still. She was silent. She was invisible.

“I remember you.”

She was so kriffing screwed.

Drawn by the voice she would never have recognized without the helmet’s modulator, she looked between the shoulders of the nearest Stormtroopers to meet the Supreme Leader’s gaze. He towered over them, a wall of shadow behind their white armor. And there was no doubt he was speaking to her. He stepped forward, and the ‘troopers parted.

Too late to hide.

His presence crashed down like a wave, suffocating. Crushing.

She turned fully, facing him head-on as she reached deep to grasp the calm assurance that helped her through so many dangerous scrapes in the past.

“We never finished our conversation.” A playful edge sharpened his words, and she hunted through the flickers of expression that slipped past his guard. He wasn’t quite the same beast she met before. This time he was all confidence, secure in his position as the head of the First Order, free to stop, to take the time to pull her apart just for fun. His eyes traced her from dripping head to sodden feet, coming to stop on her pendant. “And you’re still wearing your protection charm. I thought you were going to leave it behind next time.”

With a dim smile that was entirely polite and not at all pleased, she repeated the short bow she’d offered on their first meeting, eyes dipping with her knees as she proved her respect. But she didn’t try to cower. When she rose, she resumed eye contact, letting her expression go placid in the face of her worst nightmare.

“Apologies.” Her voice came strong and steady. It didn’t even shake from the chill. “But as you said, we never finished our conversation, and I never heard whether it was offensive or just surprising.”

Humility, sometimes seasoned with feigned stupidity, could get a civilian far with the First Order. Sometimes officers appreciated the break from the usual hysterics of oppressed locals fighting for rights they no longer possessed. Sometimes a neutral attitude just made her forgettable, which was always the best outcome.

Unfortunately, she’d made a much deeper impression than she’d realized in this case, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fade into the mist like a ghost a second time. Even in the dreary weather, his eyes practically sparkled.

“We should fix that.”

She bowed again – quickly – and without looking away.

“It would be an honor, but I wouldn’t dare take any more of your valuable time, Supreme Leader.”

It was as close to begging as someone could get without yielding, and she knew she’d failed by the quirk of his lips.

“Then you can honor me aboard my shuttle.” He moved on, not in the least encumbered by the mud holding the rest of the planet hostage. “Bring her.”

Two ‘troopers who’d been following in his wake stepped up, but she moved. Springing forward as lithely as she could given her footing, she passed into the hall of white armored bodies of her own volition. It flummoxed the guards, and she offered a simple nod and smile as she continued after their leader. He hadn’t said to arrest her. Or bind her. Not even seize her. She still had some room to work, and so long as the ‘troopers didn’t know whether or not she was a prisoner, she could keep dancing.

So, she kept just ahead of the guards and well back from Kylo Ren, wading through Dantooine’s hateful sendoff to the waiting command shuttle.

The Supreme Leader’s thunderous steps echoed back down the ramp as she entered the hollow of the ship, following muddy tracks across the pristine floors. It felt like sacrilege. Like truth. The honest filth of the First Order’s dominion, and the inevitable tide beyond all illusions of control. Beneath her careful tranquility, a smug spark of emotion kindled. Not even the great First Order could stay polished in the face of a good storm.

But the spark faded as the Stormtroopers marched up after her, and the ramp groaned shut.

The ship was cold. A dead cold. Black with flashes of white and red lights that chilled her worse than the rain. She wondered if anyone in the Order – voluntarily or compelled – ever really saw their ships and bases as home. Something always seemed to draw them back, but she was willing to bet it was the blaster in the arms of the soldier beside them over duty or desire.

The passenger compartment opened directly into the cockpit, where four flight staff were prepping the shuttle for takeoff. There was only one other chair she could spy, and she knew better than to claim it. Guest or prisoner, she shouldn’t sit until her host offered, and she seriously doubted he would.

Leaning over the pilot and copilot, the Supreme Leader rattled off orders, checking his people’s work before it was even complete.

Was he a pilot, too? She knew that flavor of backseat driving. It was why they banned so many temporary residents from the Kuma Lisa’s cockpit. Once you’d had a ship’s controls in hand, most people struggled to accept them in someone else’s.

Ren’s low voice carried through the small space, disinterested in keeping secrets from the damned. “Set course for Ord Trasi. We’ll rendezvous as planned with the Steadfast.”

She closed her eyes and took a beat to breathe through the bubble of panic at the planet’s name. None of this was planned. He didn’t know she’d been on her way back for a rendezvous of her own. If she was careful, she’d remain the only one in danger. They’d know something was wrong when she didn’t return in the morning…

And right now, she needed to open her eyes and play the game. Or she’d never get to wade through a muddy queue ever again. She’d never touch solid ground, feel the rain on her face, or swear at a too-hot sun if she met her end on a damned star destroyer. Or on this shuttle, for that matter.

She got a reign on her fear and looked back to the cockpit just as Ren turned. His black ensemble maintained his regal air even with wet hair sticking to his forehead and ten inches of mud climbing his boots. His cape was no less ominous for the messy streaks on its hem as it flowed behind his long, determined stride. She doubted she’d weathered the rain so well. But that might work in her favor. Anything, given the right approach, could work in one’s favor. It was just a matter of strategy.

The ship lifted off from the mud, hard rain streaking down the viewport like it could drive them back to ground, and Kylo Ren left his flight staff to handle the voyage. While the craft was spacious for a shuttle, it was far from a cruiser, and he closed the distance like shadows rushing in after a light switched off. She held her ground. Waited like a good little subject until his boots came within inches of hers.

She knew this tactic.

Men like him loomed over their prey for one of two reasons. He wanted a fight, or he wanted a trembling victim to torture. He was waiting to see which she’d offer.

She’d deny him both. If it came back to bite her in the ass, at least she’d die satisfied with her decision.

He’d kill her in a heartbeat if she tried to fight – unarmed, trapped on his ship, surrounded by his lackeys. If she served up the fear he craved, he’d wring it out of her until she ran dry, and then she’d be just as dead and twice as grateful to expire.

With the board set against her, she must change the rules.

The ship’s low rumbling beneath her feet reminded her she was already in the belly of the beast, and she must be very clever to climb back out again.

“Who are you?” For all his casual intimidation, he didn’t hide the curiosity in his voice, and his anger didn’t singe the air like it did once upon a time on a planet far, far away.

He recognized a game when he saw one, and the moment he was humoring her. Or at least humoring himself.

She didn’t bow, though she dipped her eyes for the fraction of a second it took her to gather air for an answer. There was a fine line between a silly little stranger and an annoying fool. Too much bobbing would look anxious, anyway. But she held his eyes as she replied.

“Dyrrine Bairdne, sir.”

“And you’re from Lethe.” His eyes traced the strands of beads around her neck, the rings on her fingers, and bracelets on her wrists.

Slowly, mindful of the many guns and deadlier things on display, she raised her hands and lifted her hood. The Supreme Leader’s attention swung to the ornaments woven through her hair, and he scoffed.

“I see you’ve added more armor.” He stared her dead in the eye, daring her. “Expecting to meet a monster?”

She let her nebulous serenity grow warm. A blast from a cheap, old heater on a bitter winter night. Hardly the sun’s rays. But it wasn’t like he wanted that.

“Not at all, Supreme Leader.” She touched the longest strand of beads, keeping his focus on the Selenubis. “I’m training to be the next Naine of my family. Carrier of a thousand wishes, which is what these – ” She lifted a handful of necklaces, letting them rattle to draw both eye and ear. “ – represent.”

He plucked one from her grip, and his eyebrows furrowed. A frown bent his mouth as he rolled the smooth grey stones between gloved fingertips. He studied them like they had a secret script he might decipher in the fluid lines weaving over the face of each sphere.

“Take them off.”

She blinked, masking a busy mind with a face full of surprise. “Sir? They are offensive, then.”

“They’re a nuisance.” Though he didn’t let go of her jewelry, he did return his attention to her face. The amusement had waned. He wanted through her defenses.

Twisting his grip, he dragged her off-balance, and she jerked half a step forward.

Lips by her ear, he repeated, “Take them off.”

With his hulking shoulders out of the way, she could see through the viewport again. At some point, as she bantered for her life, they’d jumped to hyperspace. If he ran her through, right here, at least she’d have a familiar view.

The instant she pulled the faintest comfort from the thought, the ship was spat out of hyperspace, and a planet filled the view.

“Sir,” the flight officer called. “We’ve reached Ord Trasi. On route to rendezvous with the Steadfast now.”

The ship must be hiding on the far side of the planet, away from the hyperspace lanes.

Ren shoved her away, and the two ‘troopers stepped up to flank her. While his intentions were still far from clear, she wasn’t the honored kind of guest. She caught herself before her guards had an excuse to put hands on her, and as the Supreme Leader stomped back to oversee the last leg of their journey, she folded her shaking hands back inside her wet sleeves.

She seized the opportunity to breathe. Still alive. Still in one piece. And another distraction had bought her another precious few minutes. What she’d do with that time she had no idea, but she had it anyway.

Three TIE fighters wheeled into view, streaking past in perfect formation. The first sign of a larger First Order presence.

“I didn’t order an honor guard,” the Supreme Leader snapped. “Order them back to the ship.”

Oh, he was definitely a pilot. He was practically twitching. Too much protection must insult his ego, especially when he wasn’t behind the controls.

The flight officer leaned into the comms and relayed the command, but the TIEs did not disperse. They roared past again, moving behind the shuttle, and she swore she could feel Kylo Ren’s oppressive attention physically lift from her to this new problem.

Doubtless, Ren had something to say. More orders. A good threat or three. But before he could express his wrath beyond the creaking of his glove around his fist, a series of blasts rocked the transport.

Alarms wailed, and the flight crew began shouting updates and alerts as every standing passenger – apart from Ren – lurched into the wall. Beyond the racket from the cockpit, she could hear the wheeze of a dying engine somewhere below.

Kriff.

“Where are our shields?” Ren demanded.

Frantically switching toggles, the pilot shouted over the cacophony. “The readout shows they’re online, sir, but the damage suggests – ”

“Sabotage.” The Supreme Leader all but spat the word.

Shrieking by for another pass, the TIEs sent a hail of green laser fire over the shuttle, and she listened to the hull groan. The wall under her face was warm, and she carefully worked her way to a line of emergency grip points above. She clung on for dear life, looping her arm through and preparing for the worst.

She would not go down with the ship.

And the ship was definitely going down. Hazy clouds blurred the stars, the dark of space fading into atmospheric blue as they lost altitude.

“Sir, we’ve lost too much power. The planet’s gravity is – ”

“Supreme Leader, they’re coming about! Brace for - !”

The side of the shuttle exploded.

The angle of the blast sent debris spearing into the cockpit, and from the corner of her eye she saw an arc of wet crimson splash across the view screen. Now entirely out of control, the ship rolled, and the two stormtroopers tumbled boots-over-helmet through the hole that used to be the other half of the passenger compartment. Their voice modulators warped their screams as they fell.

She screamed, too, lifted off her feet, thrown into wall-ceiling-floor in a dizzying cycle. Her belly leapt into her throat as the engine heaved its last breath and the craft dropped into freefall.

Smoke and sparks filled the air. She couldn’t see what had happened to the flight crew or their dread leader, but no one was doing anything to slow their descent. If there was sabotage though, who was to say the shields were the only system affected? Even if they were conscious, Ren was the only one with the power to do anything at this point.

Well. Not only Ren.

Moving from grip to grip, she worked her way closer to the damaged half of the ship. She needed perspective. She had to see what she was doing.

A blur of green and brown appeared between flashes of blue, and she cursed. All her wonderful protective charms kept flying up to smack in her face, tangle in her hair, and obscure her view. She had a choice to make, and she needed to make it quickly.

Regardless of whether or not Kylo Ren survived, she wasn’t ready to die, certainly not like this. So she’d just have to take her chances.

Letting go of her precious handhold with one hand, she set to work, tugging and tearing the necklaces from her throat. She ripped the rings off with her teeth, and half the bracelets snapped as she jerked them free.

Her senses blossomed, expanding beyond her skin, beyond her sight. She felt the distance between the ship and the planet below, teaming with life, and another dim pulse somewhere onboard. Another survivor. She’d worry about that later. She’d save herself first.

Reaching into the flow of energy and motion that kept the galaxy turning, she pulled. Just as she’d found the grip inside the ship to keep stable, she grappled with air currents, gravity, and space to stabilize the shattered craft’s descent.  

It had been a long, long time since she’d tried anything on this scale, and it tore through her the way too much exercise ripped fragile muscles. Something wet dripped down her neck as the spinning slowed. They were still dropping too fast, and she pushed down at the planet until her ears rang with the effort.

Gradually, painfully, she took control of the fall.

This wouldn’t be a pretty landing.

But they just might survive it.

[redfour0]

Idk if anyone has done this before, but im inspired so im gona do it!

A time-travel codywan dinluke fic- but Codywan is who travels forward in time to pre-BOBF. and are transformed into children. also kama-cody and plasma-wing-obi (they have invaded my brain and Will Not Leave) -Long text!!!!!!!

So, Luke and Din are just chilling, exploring a maybe-jedi-maybe-sith temple and suddenly, BOOM. Luke gets knocked down and Din flies across the room when a flash of light appears. Then, two small blorbs of color flash out as one with bright yellow wings draws a dark blue lighsaber and the other, in full child-sized stormtrooper armor, covers the others rear. The smoll winged one fights Luke for a few moments while the tiny trooper sees Din and fires at him.

luke gets downed, and the trooper has ditched the blaster for jumping at Din to try and get him down (nearly succeeding) Before Din gets the upper hand and pins him to the ground. Now that he can see both of them, the winged one has robes and the wings aren't quite attached to his body. the trooper has a kama with three stripes like a ray of sunshine, with other stripes of orange littering the body.

"Who are you?" Luke asks the child because he is not used to being beaten by an 11 yo.

turns out they are Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody from the clone wars, and Luke almost has a seizure when he hears the names. The not-winged-anymore one, the Obi-Wan character, was his first master. But when Luke knew him, almost ten years ago, he was white-haired and in his 50/80's

How did they get back? Well, they where fighting Palpatine- the timeline they are from is different. The one Din and Luke are from is the same till mado s2- and he sent out a waive of sith magic, causing them to touch some sith artifact. Now they are here.

SO lets deep dive, shal we? The curse has it so the muscle memory and regular memories are in the bodies of 11 yo versions of themselves, mannerisms and all. This causes Obi-Wan to be a feral little shit, and Cody is super distant and cryptic.

little lore deets i want to add-

stwejoni where hunted for the plasma in their wings, so they isolated themselves from the galaxy and hated the jedi bc they did nothing

Hera, Ahsoka, Leia and Omega run around being chaotic in the New Republic, when their not off doing their own thing

everything about Obi-Wan and Cody from before shrunk-not Obi-Wans beard tho. that would be weird.

[letarasstuff]

Borderline Dehydrated

(A/N): This is my second time writing for Star Wars and my first attempt to get a grip on the Mandalorian (writing wise). This is based on my headcanon that Din is borderline dehydrated at any given time. Be nice to me and this fic, I'm ready to bite unwanted haters (critic on the other hand always is welcome)

Summary: Din's older Foundling seems to care more for him than she lets on

Pairing: Din Djarin x Foundling!reader (reader is refered to with she/her pronouns)

Warnings: None (but please let me know, if there is anything)

Wordcount: .7k (she is a cute shorty)

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Here, for you”, (Y/N) puts down a dish with something akin to a stew on the co-pilot’s seat. Next to Din’s seat she places two bottles of water.

An aura of questions radiates off him, as he watches her pick up the Child from his pram. “Where are you going?” He inquires, confusion evident in his modulated voice. “I’m taking the little one to the hull and eat with him and the Frog Lady dinner. We’ll leave you alone until you come down and tell us you are done. And don’t you dare do it before you drink at least half of what I gave you.” (Y/N) fixes him with a pointed look while cradling the Child to her chest.

“Why?” The Mandalorian simply asks. “Because we went through the desert of Tatooine for several days and I haven’t seen you take a sip of anything during the whole time. I’m sure you are borderline dehydrated at all times. So just fix it and eat the krayt dragon stew and drink some water, ok?” A wee bit of worry is detectable in her voice during the explanation.

Din thanks her as she makes her way to the ladder. “No need to be grateful. I just took the meat Peli already cooked and threw a bunch of other stuff in. Just do me the favor and eat. I don’t want to drag your heavy and sorry ass through the woods or something on a strange planet, just because you collapse from dehydration. I’m doing all of this out of selfish reasons, I want you to know that.”

Both of them know that (Y/N) left her selfishness, something she adapted out of survival during her years as a stray on a backwater planet, long behind. Last, when she threw herself at a Stormtrooper, who tried to shoot Din from behind. Well, luckily the white armored soldiers are not a good shot and that (Y/N)’s brain hasn’t developed a rational sense yet.

“I know”, he replies with a smile audible in his voice, “You are purely acting out of egotistical reasons. Now go and eat, I know that you gave your most recent meal to the Child and if I remember correctly, you haven’t had anything in your belly for as long as I have.” Under his helmet, Din has a smug look on his face.

He can’t describe how much he feels for the foundlings he is caring for. It pains him already thinking about reuniting the Child with the Jedi and then finding survivors of (Y/N)’s species.

During the Empire, her planet was attacked for not surrendering to them. It was an important spot for trading, making it out to be a strategic asset. That’s something the Rebellion saw early on and used it to their advantage. When the chatter about an impending imperial attack grew louder as the Empire were unwilling to leave the innocent civilians out of the war, (Y/N)’s family sent her through a safety pod into the galaxy, hoping that some kind soul will save the child.

That’s all that Din knows about her life before he had found her. Or more like, the Child found her, as she was hiding in a clove of some building. He wandered off while the Mandalorian was negotiating with a merchant. It was like the green creature sensed her distress (which, with today’s knowledge about his powers, he probably did), cooing at the crying girl. When Din found them and realized that there is no one who is willing to take her in, he acted accordingly to his creed.

Just two hours later he regretted it, because he failed to recognize that teenagers in particular are a difficult species to handle. During their first day, he lived through more emotions with (Y/N) than he is able to count on his hands.

Luckily, everything has started falling into place, and now the clan of three is a better than ever team.

And so they continue their quest through the galaxies, looking for the Jedi and another species that probably has been erased.

[tashs-stories]

A New Path ✨🌌 (1/?)

Anakin Skywalker × Reader

The underworld of Coruscant was a labyrinth of despair. Years ago, this world had thrived with commerce and culture, its towers reaching high into the heavens. Now, the planet’s once-vibrant glow was reduced to a sickly, artificial gleam. Stormtroopers prowled the streets like predators, scanning for any signs of resistance. In the shadows of this dystopian city, a hooded figure darted through the alleys, her breath shallow but steady.

Emmalia Nova Amidala had spent five long years in hiding, a ghost among the ruins of the galaxy she once fought to protect. The Jedi were gone. Her twin sister, Padmé, was dead. And the man she had once admired, maybe even loved, had betrayed everything.

Her heart twisted as she recalled his name. Anakin Skywalker.

The betrayal stung more deeply than she cared to admit. He was her sister’s great love, but Emma had always felt the pull of something more—a forbidden connection neither of them had dared to name. It had been buried beneath duty and loyalty to Padmé, but now that she was gone, the truth lingered in Emma’s heart like a ghost.

---

Blaster fire ripped through the air, illuminating the dark alleys. Emma skidded to a halt, ducking behind a crumbling wall as a squad of clones stormed past. Their white armor gleamed in the dim light, their movements precise and relentless.

“She went this way!” a voice barked.

Emma’s fingers brushed the hilt of her lightsaber, but she didn’t ignite it. The weapon felt foreign in her hands now, a relic of a life that no longer existed. She couldn’t risk drawing more attention to herself.

She pressed her back against the wall, her breathing shallow. The sound of boots pounding against durasteel echoed closer.

“Come on, Emma,” she whispered to herself. “Think.”

A roar overhead made her glance skyward. A sleek Imperial shuttle screamed through the air, its searchlights scanning the ground below. The beams passed dangerously close to her hiding spot, and Emma clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain still.

As soon as the lights moved on, she bolted. Her cloak whipped behind her as she sprinted through the labyrinthine streets. But no matter how fast she ran, the clones were faster.

She rounded a corner and skidded to a stop, her heart plummeting. A squad of stormtroopers blocked her path, their blasters aimed directly at her chest.

“Halt!” one of them ordered. “You’re under arrest, by order of the Emperor."

Emma raised her hands slowly, her hood concealing her face. She tried to think of an escape, but the odds were stacked too high.

One of the troopers approached, yanking her hood back to reveal her face. There was a moment of stunned silence as they recognized her.

“By the stars... it’s her,” the trooper muttered.

“Who?” another asked.

“The twin sister of the late Queen Amidala,” the first replied. “This one’s valuable.”

Emma’s stomach twisted. Valuable to whom?

---

The shuttle ride was eerily silent, save for the hum of the engines. Emma sat rigid, her hands bound in electro-cuffs. Her captors exchanged only brief words, and none of them answered her questions.

Her mind raced as the shuttle docked within the Empire’s most infamous weapon—the Death Star. The air was colder here, heavy with an unnatural weight. The troopers shoved her forward, leading her through the sterile halls of the station.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, though her voice betrayed a slight tremor.

“Silence,” one of the troopers snapped.

The doors to a grand chamber slid open, revealing a figure clad in flowing black robes. He stood with his back to her, his presence commanding and suffocating.

“Emperor Vader,” one of the troopers announced. “We found her on Coruscant.”

Emma froze. Vader? The name sent a chill down her spine. This was the man who had destroyed the Jedi, the monster who now ruled the galaxy.

“Leave us,” Vader commanded, his voice smooth and cold.

The troopers hesitated for only a moment before obeying, leaving Emma alone with the Emperor.

“You’ve done well to survive this long, Emmalia,” Vader said, his tone almost... familiar.

Emma stiffened. “How do you know my name?”

Vader turned to face her, and her breath caught. He wasn’t the disfigured monster she had imagined. His face was unscarred, his piercing yellow eyes burning with a strange intensity but yet familiarity. He looked like—

Her heart stopped.

“Anakin?” she whispered.

Vader’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “Anakin Skywalker is dead,” he said, stepping closer. “The galaxy knows me only as Emperor Vader.”

“No...” Emma shook her head, stumbling back. “This can’t be.”

“You were lied to,” Vader said, his voice low and venomous. “The Jedi told you I was dead to protect their secrets. To keep you from the truth.”

Emma’s chest heaved. She couldn’t reconcile the man standing before her with the friend she had once known, the man who had shared stolen glances and whispered words that had lingered far too long in her mind.

“You betrayed us,” she spat. “You betrayed Padmé.”

Vader flinched, just barely, but it was enough for Emma to notice. “I loved her,” he said, his voice darkening. “And she died because of the Jedi’s lies. Just as you nearly did.”

Emma’s hands curled into fists. “You killed her. You killed all of us.”

“I saved the galaxy,” Vader countered, his voice rising. “And I can save you too, Emma. Join me.”

Emma recoiled, her heart pounding. “You’re insane.”

Vader’s expression hardened. “You’re blinded by the past, clinging to a broken Order. But I see your strength, Emma. I always have. Together, we can restore balance.”

“Padmé believed in democracy, in freedom,” Emma said fiercely. “She would have hated what you’ve become.”

For a moment, something flickered in Vader’s eyes—pain, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Take her to the holding cells,” he said coldly, turning away.

As stormtroopers dragged Emma from the chamber, her mind raced. The man she had once loved was alive, but he was no longer the Anakin she had known.

And now, trapped in the Empire’s clutches, she had to find a way to fight back.

[illuminatedquill]

Sabine Wren x Ezra Bridger

Knightfall

Story Summary: A mysterious new enemy attacks Grand Master Skywalker's Jedi Temple in the dead of night. Faced with overwhelming odds, Jedi Master Ezra Bridger and Jedi Master Sabine Wren must fight against an enemy determined to finish what Emperor Palpatine started so long ago: exterminating the Jedi, once and for all.

@sabezraweek Prompt: Free

"Everything dies. In time, even stars burn out." - Revenge of the Sith novelization, Matthew Stover

The temple was burning.

Jedi Master Ezra Bridger moved with all the speed he could muster, drawing on the Force to aid in his movement. Merely a hundred feet ahead were the stone steps leading into the temple -

His eyes narrowed and a lance of agony pierced his heart.

Bodies lay scattered on the steps. Silhouettes, lit by the inferno engulfing the Temple, were engaged in fierce battle up and down the staircase: some of them were garbed in the traditional Jedi robes, lightsabers ignited in shades of blue, green, yellow, and violet; others wearing the familiar sinister plaster-white of what could only be stormtrooper armor.

As he approached, the rapid staccato of blaster-fire pierced the cool evening air. Some of the remaining Jedi went down.

He called to his wife, Jedi Master Sabine Wren. "Sabine!"

"Yeah, I see it!" He heard swift movement somewhere behind to his left and felt her reassuring presence through the Force.

"You can get there faster and clear the way!" he shouted.

"On it! I'll try to save some for you, old man!" Sabine, wearing her customary Mandalorian armor underneath her Jedi robes, fired her jetpack and raced ahead. A moment later, her lightsaber flared to life, the green-white blade a stark contrast against the fiery red and orange they were racing towards.

Her humor, Ezra noted, was purely reflexive. In the Force, he could feel her inner turmoil and despair barely restrained by sheer force of will.

Be safe, my love, he thought, desperately.

His wife flew through the battle and lopped off a head from one of the stormtroopers. She landed, pivoted, and switched to her patented akimbo lightsaber/blaster style. With grim determination, she set to work, with the other Jedi Knights rallying to her aid.

Her lightsaber blade cleaved through the enemy force, a green blur punctuated by shots from her blaster.

Ezra allowed himself a grim smile.

He needn't have worried. Closing the gap quickly, he ignited his own lightsaber and joined his wife in the fray.

Her name is Sabine Wren. She is a Jedi Master.

In her lifetime, she has been born many titles.

Mandalorian. Rebel. Traitor. Jedi. Mother. Wife.

She is all of these things . . . and more.

Her story is famous among the Jedi younglings. She is fearless, passionate, and forthright. The first Mandalorian Jedi in a thousand generations.

Sabine is not particularly attached to any of these titles, although she is grateful for them; for what they taught her and how they continue to guide her, even now.

Sabine Wren, Jedi Master, values one thing above all: balance. A sense of life and purpose that, for the longest time, had eluded her.

After much hardship she finally found it in the most obvious of places: herself. She didn't need to be a Jedi to matter.

She just needed to be herself.

And that is what she excels at. That is what gives her such fearsome strength. She is the personification of a tempest in battle; her prowess in combat is said to rival that of Grand Master Skywalker himself.

She never gives into the anger; the fear. They are tools, merely to sharpen her edge. Through the Force, she burns so brightly like the starbird of legend that she wears proudly on her armor.

Her name is Sabine Wren. And even in the blackest of nights, she shines like a torch for all to follow.

A flicker in the Force; Sabine angled her lightsaber to swat away another blaster bolt. She crouched and aimed her blaster at a stormtrooper, a dozen steps up towards the entrance.

Pulling the trigger once, twice, three times - all shots found their mark. He fell limp and tumbled down the steps in comical fashion.

"Watch it!" she snapped to a Jedi Knight - a Wookie, still young, named Lowbacca - who was busy with two stormtroopers. A third was taking aim at him from the Temple entrance, a long rifle in his hand.

Lowbacca growled his acknowledgment and snapped his lightsaber, a unique bronze color, to a defensive position. The long rifle fired; the bolt was deflected away by the younger Jedi.

However that left his flank exposed to the other two stormtroopers he was previously engaged with.

Sabine prepared to jetpack straight for those two, only to find a barrage of blaster-fire halt her progress; another squad had appeared from the burning entrance of the Temple and began to batter the remaining Jedi with shots.

Realization hit Sabine like a gut punch.

I'm not going to make it. Lowbacca's going to die.

The stormtroopers, sensing their opportunity, raised their rifles -

And were promptly cut down in a flash of humming blue-white energy.

Fierce exultation filled Sabine's heart.

He was here. Ezra was here, at last.

Her husband sprinted up the steps with speed that shouldn't have been capable of any being, let alone a middle-aged man. But with the Force as his ally, there was little that couldn't be accomplished by Jedi Master Ezra Bridger.

Throwing out his hand, he called his lightsaber back into his hand and pounced towards the squad of stormtroopers at the Temple's entrance.

They saw him too late. His blue-white blade cut through the air, scattering away their fire, moving at a speed that defied logic. Within mere seconds, the squad was cut down.

Ezra pivoted away from them and raced down the steps, picking off the remaining scattered troops.

Sabine trained her blaster on the entrance but no more troopers appeared.

And like that, the battle was over.

She reached out through the Force, looking for any signs of life among the still bodies - but nothing.

Ezra had done what was necessary with his usual efficiency.

Lowbacca lowered his lightsaber and stared at Sabine - and then at Ezra, coming up to check on his wife.

The Jedi Master wasn't even breathing hard.

"Show off," said Sabine to her husband, smiling a little underneath the helmet.

"Hey, you liked it," retorted Ezra. He came close and eyed her. "Are you okay?"

"No injuries. Armor took all the pot shots, as always. You?"

He shook his head. "I'm alright."

They both looked around at the chaos around them. The remaining Jedi Knights were looking at them. Waiting.

Ezra turned to them and said one word. The word they were all dreading.

"Knightfall."

The fire burned behind them, casting shadows on their faces. Through the Force, she felt the grimness of their duty - what needed to be done - and the mourning for what was lost, bursting forth like a fountain in each of them.

But they nodded and ran into the night, one by one. Their duty was paramount. The future of the Jedi Order would be decided on this night, by their actions.

Lowbacca let out a howl of anguish. Ezra clapped him on the shoulder and spoke something in private to the Wookie Jedi.

Sabine felt a chill go down her spine - the wookie's howl sounded so much like the mourning cry of the Loth-wolves back at home.

Almost like an omen . . .

The Wookie Jedi Knight chuffed out a response, nodded once to Sabine, and then ran after his fellow Jedi Knights.

Sabine saw Ezra stare after them. She didn't need the Force to tell what her husband was feeling.

The fallen Jedi on the Temple steps spoke loud enough for her.

After a moment, Ezra turned to her. "Have you heard from Master Skywalker?"

Sabine frowned. "I'm not sure. Scattered reports from the other Jedi; they haven't seen him. He wasn't inside the Temple when the explosion went off."

"I can't sense him either. You?"

Sabine reached out - multiple presences inside the Temple, too numerous to count or identify.

She shook her head. "No, nothing. But there are survivors, I think. Other Jedi, still fighting."

Ezra grimaced. "We'll have to head inside, then." He paused. "Sabine, did you hear from . . . ?"

"Our daughter? Last I heard she was gathering up the younglings into the mess hall."

Aster Bridger-Wren, a Jedi Knight, like her mother and father. Their pride and joy and love.

Still inside the burning Temple.

Ezra asked, "Anything else?"

"No. Comms were jammed shortly after that."

Ezra nodded, but she felt his concern and anxiety double through the Force, thrumming like a taut power cable.

She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Ezra. She's tough. She'll be alright."

Ezra swept a hand at the chaos before them. "This enemy - who are they? Imperials?"

"Can't be. Empire's been dead for decades. This is something new."

She paused before stating, "I think it's the enemy General Organa was warning us about."

Ezra narrowed his eyes at her. "The Imperial remnant hiding in the Unknown Regions? They had this kind of firepower out there this whole time?"

"I don't know, Ezra. It's possible."

Another explosion rocked the Temple and the two Masters were briefly buffeted by wind and debris.

Her husband shook his head. "No time to talk theories. We need to get in there, find Aster and the younglings."

"What's the plan?"

He looked at her and ignited his lightsaber.

She grinned. "Oh, I like this plan."

He snorted. "You always do."

His name is Ezra Bridger. He is a Jedi Master.

A model to the other Jedi, he is considered to perfectly embody the quintessential Jedi essence: kind, compassionate, and diplomatic.

What very few realize is how funny he is; how passionate he can be, just like his wife; and, most importantly, how hopeful he remains on even the bleakest of days.

His love story - and subsequent marriage - with Sabine Wren is the stuff of legend; not just among the Jedi, but the galaxy as a whole. Holo-dramas have told and re-told their story to trillions galaxy-wide, never failing to amuse him (and exasperate his wife).

His proudest achievements are his daughter and marrying Sabine.

Where Master Wren is a storm, he is a gentle wind, swaying the grass fields; where she is a firestorm, he can be the rain; his light is not the burning torch of his wife, but a calm, unwavering candle in the night to guide your way.

His skills in combat are vastly underrated, only due to him preferring a more diplomatic approach to problem solving - but the few who have seen him in action have been awed to silence at his speed and efficiency.

Ezra Bridger is merciful. It is a quality that his wife - and others who admire him - adores.

But he is no push-over. And his mercy has its limits.

Something more eternal, more truthful, and more deeper to the Light Side of the Force exists within the soul of Ezra Bridger.

Because he knows the truth of life; of the light and the dark. He has seen it all in his life.

He knows the fundamental law of nature and lives its creed to the best of his ability everyday: that the dark must always yield to the light.

No matter how small the flame.

The way to the mess hall was choked with fire, smoke, and stormtroopers. Sabine pulled out a re-breather mask from her pouch and handed it to her husband.

"Thanks," he panted. Jedi had techniques for dealing with smoke inhalation, but they could only stretch out air for several extra minutes - and that was if they weren't doing anything strenuous at the same time.

The stormtroopers were handled with little problem by the two Jedi Masters; it was the bodies of fallen Jedi that disturbed them the most. Friends and acquaintances, all of them. Too many to count.

Sabine wondered if this was how her master, Ahsoka Tano, felt during Order 66. Did she see the bodies of her friends and comrades too? She never spoke much about the events of that bloody period of history.

Vaulting over the corpse of a Jedi youngling, Sabine didn't have to wonder why.

They felt the presence of her daughter huddled inside the mess hall with a group of younglings. The two Masters reached out through the Force and let her know that they were coming.

Reaching the door, Ezra said, "Sabine. Watch my back?"

"Always." She ignited her lightsaber and turned around to scan the hallway for any incoming enemy traffic.

He opened the door.

Inside was a mess; benches pushed to the sides of the hall, with the long tables used for dining bunched together in a tight half-circle. And enclosed in that circle . . .

"Aster! All clear!"

His daughter poked her head above the table, along with ten or so Jedi younglings.

"Dad!" She waved a hand at him.

Ezra felt his heart lift with the immense relief at the sight of her uninjured. He ran over and gave a huge bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

Sabine ran behind him and quickly closed the doors and locked them before joining her husband in an embrace of their family.

"I told your father you'd be alright," said Sabine. "Smart of you to barricade yourselves in the mess hall."

"Thanks," said Aster. She was tall for her age, a latent gift from her grandmother, Ursa Wren, who stood at a towering six feet. Her hair was cut short in a bob fashion, similar to her mother but she had inherited her father's dark blue color.

Even now, he smiled faintly at the memory invoked whenever she was within eyesight; she was the spitting image of her mother at that age. Except for the eyes - those she had gotten from him, perpetually piercing with their blue, bright-eyed gaze.

"You're not hurt anywhere?" He searched her all over, with all his senses.

"I'm fine, Dad, really." She paused and said. "There were Jedi Knights outside the door. Did they . . . ?"

Sabine shook her head. Ezra remembered the bodies they stepped over on the way here. "They didn't make it. I'm sorry."

Aster bit her lip and looked down.

Ezra put his hand on her shoulder and said, "Hey. They did their duty. Just like you did yours. Remember."

"Honor what they fought for," she said.

"Right. And we do that by getting you and the younglings out of here."

He looked to his wife. "Hangar bay?"

Sabine nodded. "I know a short-cut. Should be safe. We hid the corvettes pretty well in case of something like this. I doubt the Imperials know about it."

Aster looked at her mother sharply. "Is it really the Empire?"

Ezra shook his head. "I'm not sure. Your mother and I don't think so."

Sabine said, "Well, they fall pretty easily to a well-placed lightsaber."

Aster snorted. "That doesn't narrow down the list of suspects much, Mom."

Sabine shrugged. "Hey, I'm a Jedi Master. Not a detective."

Ezra smiled briefly at his wife before asking, "Have you seen or heard from Master Skywalker, Aster?"

His daughter frowned, thinking for a few moments. Then: "No, I haven't."

Ezra shared a despairing look with Sabine.

"But I saw his astromech droid."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Artoo? Where did you see him?"

One of the Jedi younglings - a small Togruta female - spoke up. "He was being taken by the troopers. They were heading towards the inner defenses."

Ezra felt an icy fist clutch his heart. He looked at Sabine.

"It's bad, isn't it," she said, quietly.

"They have his astromech. Luke trusted Artoo with everything regarding the temple - if the Jedi are to escape, we need those defenses. They're probably trying to get him to turn them off."

She cocked her head at him. "What's the plan, Ezra?"

He smiled sadly at her. "I'm counting on you."

Even under the helmet, he could feel her eyes blazing at him. "Absolutely not. We go together."

"Someone needs to stay with Aster and the younglings to guide them out safely."

Sabine took off her helmet and stepped closer to him; her eyes were swimming in tears. "I am not leaving you here to die some stupid, noble death!"

Ezra gently grabbed her and lead them both away from Aster and the younglings. He could feel the worried eyes of his daughter watching her parents.

"I don't want her to see us fighting. Not at a time like this," he said to her in a low voice.

"The Jedi Order is dying, Ezra. We need everyone to fight back against this shadow enemy - "

"No, we need them!" He waved at Aster and the younglings. "They're the future! They're what we need to save, Sabine."

She shook her head. "Don't ask me to do this. Please, Ezra." Sabine reached out and cupped his face.

It took everything he had to step away. How badly he wanted to stay with her.

Just like before. A long, long time ago . . .

Softly, he gave his wife a kiss. "We had our time. I was happy with you. With Aster. With Hera and Jacen and Zeb and Chopper. And Kanan."

Sabine started to weep.

"It's time to pay it forward, my love. For the future. For Aster."

She looked away from him for a long moment. Then she put on her helmet. Sorrow radiated out from her like a furnace but he felt the iron will of his wife begin assert determination into her being.

She had made her choice.

Once, a long time ago, she had made a wrong choice. And Sabine had vowed never to do so again.

No matter the cost.

"Aster. Gather the younglings. Keep them in a tight formation."

Aster nodded and started issuing instructions. Sabine looked to her husband and said, "Thirty minutes."

Ezra frowned. "What?"

"I'm giving you thirty minutes, Ezra. Then we leave."

"Sabine . . . "

She grabbed him by the tunic. "I don't care, Ezra. The Force can't decide all of it. You owe it to me and your daughter to try."

Ezra blinked and smiled at his wife.

Do or do not . . .

"I promise to try," he replied. "That's the best I can give."

Sabine nodded and let him go. Igniting her lightsaber she went to the door and peered out.

"All clear. Aster, we're heading out."

Aster ignited her own lightsaber - a vivid, pink hue - and led the tightly formed group of younglings out the door. Ezra took up the rear.

Before they went separate ways, Aster gave him a quick hug.

"Is this . . . good-bye?" she asked, voice quivering. His daughter was trying so hard to be brave.

Ezra almost couldn't trust himself to answer.

She would have known if he was lying.

He just squeezed his daughter a little harder in the hug, feeling her; the strength born from him and Sabine, all their knowledge and fears and joys, flowing into her.

"Follow your mother. Remember your training. And trust the Force."

She nodded into her shoulder. "I will, Dad."

He watched them leave, Sabine leading them into a side corridor.

Ezra looked at his wife. Sabine paused and took one last look at him.

He wanted nothing more than to freeze that moment. To savor the image of his wife, beautifully fierce, for an eternity.

A disturbance in the Force -

"Ezra!" shouted Sabine.

He whipped around, igniting his lightsaber in time to parry two shots aimed for his sternum.

Stormtroopers, coming around the bend. They aimed their rifles and started to fire.

He batted away the shots. "Sabine! Go!"

He felt her hesitation . . . and then it was replaced with grim determination. "Thirty minutes, Ezra! Don't be late, old man!"

And then she was gone, quickly ducking into the side corridor.

Ezra huffed out a quick laugh, dodging another blaster bolt. He deflected another one straight back to its shooter.

"Sorry, fellas," he said to the remaining stormtroopers. "Can't be late for this date."

He moved in on them, the Force guiding his hands.

Drawing on the Force, Ezra made the sprint to the Temple's inner defenses in five minutes.

His comm-link chirped as he stood outside the door, reaching out with the Force. Five presences, all filled with malicious intent.

He could also hear the pained squealing of an astromech droid.

Ezra ducked to the side and spoke into his comm-link. "Sabine?"

"Ezra. We've arrived and are powering up the corvette."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Any issues?"

"Not really. Diced up some stormtroopers on the way. Aster did this neat flip move that I think Master Skywalker taught her."

Exasperated, Ezra heard his daughter groan. "Mom."

"It was very fancy. I think I saw you do something like that, when you were younger. Way younger."

Ezra growled, "I'm not that old, Sabine. You're older than me, you know."

"He's a charmer, your dad. How are things on your end?"

Ezra readied his lightsaber. "About to get this party started."

He paused and said, "Wish you were here."

Sabine replied, "Well, you can tell me all about it when you get back in twenty minutes."

Ezra smiled, despite the situation. Sabine always knew what to say. "I'll do that."

"Yeah. You will. Or I'm coming for you." The call ended.

He readied a breath and stepped inside.

Despite the simple name, the Temple's inner defenses were a complex network of fail-safes and redundancies; all tied to a single, massive computer core that oversaw a whole network of protocols that kept the Temple running smoothly.

In case of an attack, the whole network was to run automatically without need of supervision; an alarm was to be sounded for evacuation and a recorded message from a selected Jedi Master broadcasted to the other temples to warn them.

In addition, multiple turbo-lasers were embedded in the grounds all surrounding the Temple. If there was a carrier waiting in orbit - as Ezra suspected there was - the turbo-lasers would fire unceasingly, giving fleeing Jedi a cover to escape.

It was an ingenious system devised by Master Skywalker and the New Republic's best and brightest - but it failed to account for one possibility.

Sabotage from within.

As Ezra stepped inside, the first thing he noted was the slashes all over the consoles. Sloppy, powerful, angry strokes - but not made from any metal blade.

Made from a lightsaber. The Force radiated with the rage and power from within the room; an echo of whoever had done this damage.

I've got a bad feeling about this, he thought. Ezra hadn't the slightest clue who from Luke's students would be capable of such a betrayal.

The second thing he noted was the squad of troopers huddled around a familiar astromech - R2-D2, Master Skywalker's trusted droid. He lay on his back as the troopers took turns poking stun batons at him.

"Stupid droid," one of them muttered. "Have you ever met one so annoying? They usually cave after the first shock."

Ezra decided that stormtrooper would be the first. Igniting his lightsaber, he said, "Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

They all whirled around. "Jedi!" screeched one of them.

Ezra pounced. There was a random array of shots, easily blocked by him.

Five swift slashes later, he was alone in the room with Artoo.

"Hey, buddy," he said, picking up the droid. The astromech warbled a relieved response to him.

"Have you heard from Master Luke, Artoo?"

Artoo replied in the negative. He sighed. "Figures."

Artoo beeped worriedly. "I'm sure he's alright. Anyway, can you get these consoles up and running? We need to get the defenses operational before - "

A sudden flicker in the Force was his only warning. Ezra dove to the side as an explosion shook the room. Bits of ceiling and rubble sprayed over him.

Shaking himself at this daze, Ezra looked up and saw the stars.

And then he saw the stars blotted out by something massive. Hovering over the planet.

Artoo had already jacked himself into the console. Within seconds the consoles came to life - and beeped an alert at him.

"A little late, but thanks. Yeah, I see it Artoo." He whistled. "That's a huge ship."

Artoo beeped a statement at him.

"The Supremacy? Sounds like someone important is visiting us tonight."

"Shall I tell you his name?" asked a menacing voice.

Ezra ignited his lightsaber and looked around to the source. A human man stood there, mid-30s with brown hair and a permanently pinched expression, garbed in what looked like an Imperial officer's uniform.

Only it was all in black. Not the usual monotone gray.

He held a blaster pistol in his hand, aimed at Ezra.

"Artoo, get those defenses up and running now."

More footsteps - hard and orderly; a marching formation.

Twelve more stormtroopers filed into the room and formed a semi-circle around Ezra and Artoo. They raised their rifles.

Ezra forced calm into his voice. "I know you're all scared. I'm a Jedi; I can sense these things."

The officer sneered at him. "We've killed plenty of your Jedi tonight."

Ezra cocked his head at him. "Not me, though. I'm still alive. I'm sure some of you are wondering why that it is."

He lifted his lightsaber in a defensive salute. "If you want to leave, you may do so."

The officer laughed. "No one will be leaving, Jedi. Except for you, in a body bag."

"So, what are you? Empire? Or something else?" Ezra couldn't help but be curious.

At the word Empire, the officer seemed insulted. Ezra could practically feel the man boil over with indignant rage.

"Do not," he said through gritted teeth, spittle flying from his mouth, "compare us to that bureaucratic, bloated waste of an Empire!"

Ezra raised his eyebrows in astonishment at the man's reaction. "My apologies."

"We are so much more! Led by our Supreme Leader Snoke, we will create order! We will enforce peace! No more New Republic, no more Empire - just an Eternal Order, the first of it's kind in the galaxy!"

He jabbed the blaster pistol at Ezra in a frenzy. "We are the First Order, Jedi!"

"First, huh." Beside him, Artoo beeped softly.

All finished. He nodded at the astromech droid.

All at once, the ground shook as the turbo-lasers, finally re-activated, began to blast away at the super-carrier in orbit above the Temple.

The First Order officer blinked in surprise. "What . . . ?"

Ezra pulled him forward with the Force, impaling him on the lightsaber blade.

"Ggghrk," said the First Order officer. Ezra leaned in close to whisper in the idiot's ear.

"The Jedi Order will make sure that your 'First Order' will also be the last. You should have learned something from your predecessors - never let a Jedi talk."

The fury erupted in the man's eyes - and then faded all at once. He was dead.

Ezra tossed him off the blade and waved to the stormtroopers. "Next?"

They opened fire.

Letting the Force guide his hands into a defensive pattern, Ezra shouted to the astromech droid. "Artoo! You're all good, buddy. Go find Master Skywalker!"

Artoo squealed in protest.

"I'll be fine. Gotta stay here to make sure they don't shut down the defenses again." His blade hummed angrily, swatting away more blaster-fire. "Go, go!"

The droid sighed in resignation and activated his boosters, flying through a hole in the ceiling.

And then it was just Ezra. Alone.

Deflecting more shots, he spoke into his comm-link to say good-bye to his wife . . . only for him to realize that it had been damaged in the explosion from earlier.

So that was it, then.

No more good-byes.

Ezra Bridger drew the Force into him, letting him fill his entire being until he could feel his cells glowing with its power.

And then he went to work. Moving with impossible speed, cutting down the stormtroopers; dodging, weaving, parrying with unerring accuracy and grace.

The twelve that entered didn't stand a chance.

But more came. Filing through, blasters firing away.

And then more. And more. And more.

And more. An unending, unceasing flood of white armor and red blaster-fire.

Ezra Bridger, Jedi Master, knew the math was not coming in his favor for this battle.

But he could not let them turn off the defenses.

And so he fought. Drawing more and more of the Force into himself.

It was dangerous, he knew. That much Force usage would burn out even an experienced Jedi in minutes.

He was burning himself out.

Ezra wondered if he could count how much time he had left in heartbeats. His hands weaved the lightsaber, blocking three shots -

A fourth got through. His leg.

He drew more of the Force in, walling away the pain. He pivoted, sliced through the abdomen of another stormtrooper -

His shoulder erupted in pain. Ezra ignored it.

And then his abdomen, left side.

He was fading. Somehow, barely conscious, he was still moving. Still fighting. His body moved on instinct, despite the increasing toll of his mounting injuries.

F a d i n g . . .

F a d i n g . . .

Memories.

Meeting Sabine for the first time. How intimidating she was; how fierce she looked in the Mandalorian armor. How beautiful she looked under the helmet. Feelings that had never gone away - that he never expected to be reciprocated until she found him again.

Kanan. His first lessons as a Padawan, learning how to wield the lightsaber, how to open himself to the Force; but, above all, how to be a good person.

Hera. The Twi'lek who was like a mother to him. The laughter they shared, how she protected and taught him. He remembered the tears she wept after his long voyage home from Peridea, sweeping him into the deepest, warmest hug he could ever have imagined after such a lonely exile.

Zeb. Cantankerous, reliable Zeb. The joy and deep soul underneath that gruff exterior.

Chopper. Foul-mouthed but ever dependable. The fun times they had getting out of sticky situations with the Empire.

Ahsoka. Always looking forward, always wise, always a mentor whenever he needed. She was the one to knight him. Helped mold him into the Jedi Master he was today.

More memories. More fuel to keep him going. Feeding the fire that was going out.

Sabine finding him again on Peridea. How easily they slipped into old habits, hiding away what had changed.

How her betrayal had shaken him - but they made it through, together. Forged a bond that could never be broken.

Meeting Jacen for the first time. Feeling his heart crack at how much like Kanan he looked.

Ending Thrawn's reign of terror against the galaxy. Saving the New Republic.

Living with Sabine. Falling in love all over again.

The marriage. Their vows. Waking up to Sabine, sleeping next to him, softly snoring. Feeling the weight of her, how she felt, the strength of her heartbeat.

The birth of their daughter, Aster.

Seeing her first steps, her first words; seeing her enter the Academy for the first time.

So many memories.

He fed them all into the fire.

The blaster-fire stopped at some point.

Ezra stood, just barely. He couldn't feel much at that point. His lightsaber held just aloft in a position that required the least amount of energy to hold.

Around him lay the crumpled bodies of at least a hundred stormtroopers. All dead.

A voice crawled into his head. Through the Force.

You have fought well, Master Jedi.

It sounded like . . . the Grand Inquisitor? No, it couldn't be. Or maybe it was Vader?

Or . . . Thrawn?

"Who is this?" he muttered.

The death of your Order, the voice said. The beginning of mine.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he remembered. "Snoke," he said.

Remember it well. For the short time you have left.

Three figures walked through the entrance, wearing scarlet armor. They moved through the sea of dead bodies like red wraiths.

In their hands, wicked blades with purple electricity surging through them.

Ezra had heard of them from the days of the Empire from Luke.

Praetorian guards.

Die well, Master Bridger, said the voice.

Still fading. Just embers left now.

Ezra, still in pain, lifted his lightsaber one last time.

Sabine looked desperately at the chronometer. Ezra hadn't arrived yet.

They were out of time.

"Anything?" she asked Aster.

Aster, tears streaming down her face, shook her head. "I can't raise him. Comms must be down."

Another explosion rocked the hangar bay.

"Not much of the turbo-lasers left," she said. "The massive ship above is bombing what's left."

She looked at her mother. "We have to get Dad. Let me get him."

I'm counting on you.

Sabine grabbed her daughter and sat her back down. "Tell the younglings to strap in and prepare for take-off."

A part of her was screaming, dying at what she was about to do.

"What? No - no, we're not leaving him, right? Mom!" Aster looked at her mother, pleading.

Sabine didn't listen. She keyed the control for the hangar bay doors and pushed the engines to maximum.

"Mom!" Aster yelled at her. "You're leaving him! You're leaving Dad behind!"

She glanced out the view-port to the burning Temple below.

Good-bye, my love.

Sabine knew, deep down, that she would always regret not saying it to him for the rest of her life.

She pushed the throttle and aimed for the stars.

The battle didn't last long.

It didn't need to. Ezra had done what was needed.

The praetorian guards pulled their blades from him. He fell over, watching the blood seep onto the stone floor.

One of them kicked him onto his back.

Through the crack in the ceiling, he saw a frigate rocket by, weaving through the laser bombardment, flying towards freedom.

He knew his wife and daughter were on there. Safe.

I'm sorry, Sabine. Going to be late after all. Hope you don't mind waiting a bit.

One of the Praetorian guards raised his blade for a final blow.

Ezra reached out one last time into the Force. Blowing life into the embers that were left.

With a strained shout, he threw his hands towards that cracked Temple ceiling. It shifted and groaned -

And then collapsed. Tons of rubble falling, caving in on the room.

The Praetorian guards screamed but had nowhere to run.

Ezra Bridger smiled, thinking of his watchtower - how the sun hit the capital city at the right angle making it sparkle in the early evening; how holding Sabine's hand felt on a warm, breezy day, just sitting in the grass fields, watching the Loth-cats scurry about . . .

He was still thinking about Sabine when he died.

FAR, FAR AWAY (Jacen)

Jacen Syndulla, Jedi in training, raced onto the docking ramp of the Ghost. His mother, Hera, is already preparing to lift-off from the Ghost cockpit.

"Jacen! Are we all set?"

He mentally checked the list one more time. "Yeah! That's everything!"

The broadcast from Master Skywalker's Temple had hit them hard - but the plan was already in motion. The Jedi were on the move.

Knightfall. Knightfall. Knightfall.

"Jacen, get up here! Gonna need you for navigation!"

"Alright, Mom," Jason shouted back. He began to close the ramp -

He paused. Two figures, shrouded in ghostly blue and somewhat translucent in Jedi robes, stood at the end.

One of them lowered his hood. Jacen sucked in a breath; it was a face he had only seen in holos and photographs.

"Dad?" he whispered.

His father, Kanan Jarrus, waved at him. He smiled sadly and turned to the other figure who also lowered his hood.

Jacen took a step back. "No, it can't be."

It was Ezra. He looked pointedly at Jacen and the younger Jedi could hear him in his thoughts.

It's up to you now, Jacen. You're the future.

Jacen began to cry. "Ezra, wait - "

I'll be seeing you around, kid. Don't worry. And look after your mom.

And then he was gone. They were both gone.

The docking ramp closed.

"Jacen! Where are you?"

After a couple minutes, Hera let Chopper doing the flying. She found her son, huddled at the docking entrance, still crying.

FAR, FAR AWAY (Ahsoka)

Ahsoka Tano turned to Huyang and asked, "Are the coordinates set?"

"Yes, Lady Tano. I expect we'll be the first to arrive."

They were sitting in the cockpit of her trusty T-6, waiting in deep space.

"Good. Any news from General Organa?"

"She'll be meeting us there, along with the other Resistance leaders," replied the droid.

The Jedi Master sighed and began to feel her age. "I can't believe it's happening again, Huyang."

The droid concurred with a sad tone. "Yes. Twice in my lifetime."

"And mine, too." Ahsoka had felt the disturbance in the Force, shortly followed by the broadcast from Luke's Temple.

Knightfall. Knightfall. Knightfall.

She drove a fist into her leg. "We're ready this time, though. We saw this coming."

Huyang replied, "The enemy is far more devious and quicker than we imagined. But, yes, we do have a plan ready for this."

Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply . . . only to feel a wave of sadness and grief wash over her. It was so intense and immediate that she doubled over in her pilot's chair.

I'm leaving it to you, Ahsoka. Thank you for everything.

"Ezra," she whispered. "No, oh no. Ezra."

Huyang, alarmed, asked, "Lady Tano? What is the matter?"

Ahsoka didn't reply. She was too busy crying over her lost friend.

FAR, FAR AWAY (Sabine)

Aster felt Ezra's passing before she did.

Sabine watched her daughter whisper, "Dad?", shudder once and then begin to sob, unrestrained.

And then - an invisible hand stroked her hair.

Ezra's voice, in her head.

Sorry, Sabine. You'll have to wait a little longer. I love you.

She reached out to grab the hand, but it was already gone.

And that's when she knew, more than anything else she had seen in the burning Jedi Temple, that her world had ended.

The frigate lay hidden in an asteroid field.

They had been pursued, as she expected. Sabine had used up every piloting trick she knew or heard about to escape the enemy.

Finally, they had stopped in an asteroid field to take stock and rest. Everything but the life support was turned off, in the event their pursuers came sniffing around.

And all that was left to do was . . . wait. Until they heard from Ahsoka.

Sabine sat in the darkness, feeling almost grateful for it.

Ezra was dead.

She kept repeating it in her head. It was a fact but that didn't make it feel any more true.

Ezra was dead. Ezra was dead.

"Mom?"

She looked over to Aster - and realized they weren't alone.

The younglings had all come to the bridge. They were scared, even if they were doing a good job of hiding it.

"Yes, Aster?"

"I'm - I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. About leaving Dad behind."

Sabine shook her head. "It's the truth. That's what I did."

Aster reached out and took her hand. Sabine could feel Ezra's strength in those hands.

"It's what he wanted. He wanted to make sure we were safe."

The words tumbled into the hollow space in her heart where Ezra used to be. They didn't make much of a difference in how she felt, but she forced herself to nod.

"Master Wren?" asked one of the younglings.

Sabine said, "Yes?"

"Can you tell us a story? To pass the time?"

Sabine almost laughed. "A story?"

What use are stories at a time like this?

Aster replied, "I think that's a good idea. Mom?"

Sabine sighed - and then heard Ezra's voice.

Tell them a story, Sabine. You've got plenty of them.

She frowned. Why? What good would it do?

Well, it'll stop you from moping around, for one.

Oh, funny.

You've got to give them hope, Sabine.

Even when I don't have any for myself? she asked.

Especially, then, replied Ezra's voice.

She sighed. I miss you so much, already, goofball.

"Alright, gather around. I've got one. About going into another galaxy."

The younglings eyes widened and they huddled into a circle around her.

There was a small yelp. "Ouch."

Sabine winced. "Yeah, okay. Probably need some light, then. Can't use technology though . . ."

Aster said, "Hang on, I've got a lighter here."

She flicked it on. "Is that from Dad?" asked Sabine, amazed.

Her daughter's eyes opened in realization. "Yeah, for my birthday. He said they used to use this way back in the early, early days before the Republic. It's an antique."

Sabine watched the small flame, dancing defiantly in the dark. It lit the faces of all that were present -

And, for a small instant, she saw Ezra - smiling, huddled in the circle, ready to hear one of her stories.

I'm counting on you, Sabine.

She smiled, feeling the tears coming on. Sabine bowed her head for a moment, cleared her throat - and started telling the story.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away . . . "

"The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars." - Revenge of the Sith novel, Matthew Stover

[lightwise]

TBB S3 E14 Reaction

Gosh. I really don’t want this all to be over 😭 (at the same time, I kind of need the stress to be over 💀). I was white-knuckled by the end of this episode, I’ll tell you that.

- They really just out here hanging out upside down

- This ship is definitely like the one Cross and Omega escaped on

- Wow my boys look good in black 🖤

- “At least listen to him!!” 🤣

- So Echo is straight up wearing Star Wars jeans now - @ladyzirkonia 😏 - andddd wearing brown leather pouches…remind you of anyone 🥹

- Oh no. Of course Hemlock was going to find out they were coming *sigh*. I guess it makes sense. That lieutenant would have filed a complaint the second he woke up.

- Hunterrrr whipping that ship around like it weighs nothing

- These clouds look perfect

- “Hang on” Hunter you’re starting to sound like your brother

- “Your concern for the specimens is showing” Emerie don’t leave them with *her*!!!

- HE PEEK

- Crosshair looks really nice in this outlined armor even though I miss the softness of the grey and red

- So Hunter has his own drift and slide move, huh? 👀 🥵

- They are literally plummeting to the surface right now dear lord

- Yeah I don’t think Hunter can call Tech or Phee out for reckless flying ever again 💀

- “You don’t want to know” — Narrator: he did, in fact, very much not want to know 🤣

- The seat folding back like he did for Batcher needing to get out in episode 3–he’s come such a long way

- Rampart

- Screaming

- Like

- A

- Girl coward 😆

- Let’s be honest though I’m terrified of heights in a directly physiological way so I honestly can’t blame the man AT all

- Meanwhile Wrecker having the time of his life lol

- Rampart. Honey. Maybe don’t LET GO of the cable you’re hanging onto for dear life with one hand just to make a talking point

- Oh no. Echo be careful!

- The landscape of Tantiss in this episode and the lighting and the sky and the trees and the river are just 🤩🤩🤩 STUNNING

- Atta boyyy using the storm trooper armor to blend in (his scomp looks so weird poking out of the vambrace though!)

- “I’d rather not do either” my baby boy 😭😭😭 I hate that they’re making him go back!

- They did the Spider-Man standoff 🤣🤣🤣

- “Unfortunately yes” lmaooooo

- “We’ll take our chances” that is giving callbacks to a parallel I do not want to make (Jyn’s speech in Rogue One—“we’ll take our chances until they’re spent.”

- It’s still just wild to me that Rampart is with them for this

- Oooh why did Echo’s scomp get stuck??

- “Thanks for the hand” Echo you and your dry sass 🤣

- You know, I’m just realizing—part of the point of the clone troopers was that they were identical. That included size. At first I thought “oh course Echo would fit best into stormtrooper gear bc he’s a reg” but—stormtroopers are supposed to be all kinds of random people. How are they all the same size?? How are they producing gear en masse to accommodate different people’s body types? Why do they all look the same height and weight on screen? Space opera plot hole I guess

- Jax’s hair sticking up

- These precious babies don’t know what “cover me” and stalling means! Shows how Omega has led such a different life

- Man they are just shoving Rampart all over the place. I meannn he deserves it but also it’s just going to piss him off

- Rampart just said the quiet part out loud. About himself. He doesn’t understand Crosshair in the slightest. He’s only seen a tiny sliver of who Crosshair is and he thinks it was the true version. It was not. And yet Crosshair has gained so much confidence in himself that he doesn’t even need to argue back with Rampart at all. Just a simple “I’ve changed” THAT’S MY BOY

- “Sure you have” what the HELL does that mean?? Why does it sound like foreshadowing 😭👀

- Echo can just take the hand off 💀

- Yep, told ya, Rampsrt is getting mad. Calling him dead weight doesn’t really help matters either

- ….yeah let’s just go lean against the nearest fluffy, warm, GIANT wall of flesh in the nearest vicinity and not realize it’s a creature 🤣

- Rampart’s face here is priceless

- Lovely. Now the scary blind hedgehog hyena bear is looking for lunch

- Okay yeah maybe you guys really should be running

- Wrecker 😭😭😭

- The boys helping him up 😭

- Rampart you clown. Pull yourself together man

- Oh man. He’s totally going to be a problem next episode isn’t he

- Crosshair takes babysitting duty very seriously

- The babes don’t know how to stall very well but 10/10 for effort. Dr. Scalder just keeps living up to her name with the callous burns too

- Omega girlie pop you better get back soon

- 😱😱😱

- SHE’S BACKKK

- I repeat

- THE ZILLO BEAST HAS RETURNED

- My love for Metamorphosis in season 2 is being so validated right now you have no idea 😁

- How dare Hemlock torture that beautiful creature like this I hate it

- Seriously Omega get back down there now

- Phew

- Oh my

- She knows his name?? Emerie recognized Echo?? And from Omega telling her about her (their) brothers you’ve got to be kidding me 😭😭😭

- Ohhh Echo is not happy to see her 🤣👀

- Ohhhh Emerie. Her facial expressions look so much like Omega here. The guilt is just oozing out of her

- Ohhhhh. The helmet came off. The neural brace is gone. Okay, so when Echo first started eyeing that stormtrooper to take his gear, the first thing I thought was “but your head brace won’t fit under that kind of helmet!” And sure enough, they had him leave it behind. I repeat—Echo left his entire kit of armor AND the gear that most likely keeps his modifications running smoothly, helps decrypt and smooth out the sensory jumble of the neural implants put in him by the Techno Union, the one thing we’ve never seen him without since TCW, that most likely is not easily replaced—Echo left it behind, most likely never to retrieve it. For Omega. For his brothers. The lengths these boys will go to I just can’t 😭

- C’mon Emerie, put your loyalty where it belongs—with your family!

- “What children” poor boy almost had a heart attack. That man is never frazzled and he almost dropped his hand in shock 😅

- Atta girl 😱🤗 Emerie Echo rescue duo let’s goooo

[twinsunstars]

Thoughts on The Bad Batch Episode 14 - Flash Strike - A Discussion Post

This episode had my heart racing and I still cannot grasp the fact that this is the second-to-last episode. Let's return to the pre-finale filled with surprising and heart-racing moments!

(SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE EPISODE YET! all screencaps from www.cap-that.com! https://www.cap-that.com/starwars/the-bad-batch/314/?page=1)

The boys and Rampart keep their shuttle attached to the Imperial ship that is on its way to Mount Tantiss, and the ship that Echo is currently inside of. Hunter plans to detach the ship and head into Tantiss, and they know that Echo will find a way off the ship safely.

It's so funny how Rampart has just been dragged into this mess and is on his way to Tantiss as well, as he likely never expected to get into this much chaos after the Batch got him out of that Imperial prison. He's probably preferring the prison now instead of going to Tantiss.

Hemlock enters the control room, inquiring about the status of the ship coming here. Scorch gives him word that the Batch had infiltrated the station on Coruscant with Rampart, and that certainly changes things. Hemlock orders fighters to launch into the airspace, preparing for the attack.

The ship exits out of hyperspace to enter Wayland (Weyland? It's spelled differently in Canon and Legends on Wookiepedia, and on the Star Wars website they spell it as Wayland), the planet where Mount Tantiss is located. Hunter and Crosshair pilot the ship in the front, detaching from the vessel and fighting the fighters that were sent out to attack them. The laser cannons attached to Tantiss start to attack them as well as Hunter pilots and tries to avoid the cannon shots.

The rumbling caused by the laser cannons are felt on Tantiss, and it was so cute how their little flat block structures broke because of the rumbling and Baryn (being the little playful baby he is) knocks over his structure and laughs. Omega feels the vibrations on the table and can tell that it is laser cannons. Emerie gets word that there is a security alert and she tells Scalder to watch the kids, which Scalder basically rolls her eyes at and says that they will be fine.

Omega knew that her brothers have come for her, and that just melted my heart.

The ship gets shot, and the boys and Rampart have to quickly get out before they crash land. Wrecker gets the cables out, and Crosshair and Wrecker go first, hanging off the ship, and they literally had me hanging on my seat in fear if any of them fell. Hunter jumped with Rampart (by jumped, I mean jumped and dragged him down to get him out because he wouldn't jump). Rampart's screams were everything this episode; shout out to Noshir Dalal for voicing him so greatly.

Hemlock sends out troops to find them, while the boys hide out in the jungle. It was hilarious how Hunter said "Unfortunately, yes" when Rampart survived, and Rampart heard him. For a second I really thought he didn't survive until Hunter said yes. The boys continue to head towards Tantiss, trying their best to be unseen.

I cried when Crosshair's hand started shaking again, he's so nervous to be back here.

Meanwhile, Echo disguises himself in stormtrooper armor and steals a droid's hand, and I was so happy that he finally got a robotic hand. All the theories about Echo wearing white armor just like Fives was before he died in his arc in The Clone Wars is freaking me out, I really hope it doesn't come to that in the finale.

Eva wonders why their vitals haven't been taken yet today as usual, and Omega decides to go into the walls of Tantiss and figure out what is going on (she is literally living in the walls of Tantiss and Hemlock's walls, it's so funny). She tells the kids to cover her, who all have no idea what that means.

While venturing through the jungle, Rampart talks with Crosshair, comparing how he saw him in the Empire versus now with his brothers. Crosshair says that Rampart is like him after the Empire had betrayed them both and that he has changed, and Rampart suspects if he really has. He's really scaring me with how that line was delivered, but I'm just hoping that it means nothing and everything's fine.

Omega carefully goes through the walls of Tantiss, trying to find out what is going on and any routes of escape. The boys and Rampart continue to navigate themselves through the jungle, while Rampart grows tired and lays near what he thinks is probably a rock. He rests near a large beast, as it awakens and Rampart starts freaking out, running away. The boys try to fight it without blasters, but eventually the blasters are used and their position is given away.

Rampart gets caught by the Imperials while running away, as he will likely be taken to Hemlock for questioning. I'm so worried that he will betray the Batch.

The kids try to come up with ways to keep Omega from being caught, as Baryn drifts off to sleep. Dr. Scalder comes down to take the kids' vitals with the usual droid, while Omega is missing. Sami tries to stall Dr. Scalder by telling her that she is still hungry, and Scalder replies, "It will pass." She was really willing to let the kids starve and didn't care; her and Hemlock are at the top of the list as the worst doctors on Tantiss. Jax asks if he can go next, but Scalder becomes frustrated with the kids, going in order and doing her job.

Luckily Omega managed to get back in time, acting like nothing happened.

While in the walls, Omega passes a room that holds a contained Zillo beast, likely the same one that the Batch had seen before. I'm so happy the theories about the ZIllo Beast being in Mount Tantiss's basement came true, and if the prayers about it eating Hemlock come true that would just be funny. I'm so ready for Omega to let it free and allow it to cause chaos on that mountain with the Batch watching.

Echo gets in the room where the blood samples are tested, and views all the files of every clone on Tantiss, even Omega's. Emerie comes in and sees him in his trooper disguise, and Echo tries to lie his way out (and of course, we know that clones are unable to lie). Emerie manages to recognize Echo from what Omega has told her about him, and Echo gets to meet the Emerie his sister has always talked about. Echo gets upset with Emerie since she is playing a part in all of this, and Emerie says that she was just doing her job. I feel so bad for her and all the lies she's grown up with while likely growing up under Hemlock, but she's starting to wake up. Emerie tells Echo about the other children on Tantiss, and they plan to get them out. I'm so excited to see their dynamic next week.

Omega regroups with the kids, and the kids are happy to see that she is fine. The kids ask her if she found something, and Omega says that she found something big and is ready to get them out with a plan. She looks so ready, I'm so ready for my little girl to cause havoc on that mountain and make every doctor on Tantiss go insane.

I can't believe we're reaching the finale now, and I'll only have one more discussion to write. I'm so excited and greatly nervous for the finale, and I am so sad that this show is coming to an end soon. I'm hoping we can see CX-2 again, where did he go and please reveal your face! Still praying the finale is over an hour...