#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.

[whiteskullrapegangarmorstorm]

WHITE SKULL RAPE GANG ARMOR STORM

STORMTROOPERS

[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."

[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.

[archiveoftragedies]

One thing about Andor I cannot get over is that we see the Empire being afraid.

We see Dedra getting dragged around the streets of Ferrix by a hoard of rebels, and when Syril rescues her, she breaks down, breathing heavily and shaking for 2 minutes. The camera doesn't cut.

We see Syril kneel on the floor with a gun to the back of his head, unable to move or do anything. He waits like a coward and he's only alive because Cassian decided not to kill him. We see him cry, we see his mother slap him, we see him make an ass of himself in front of almost every character he interacts with.

We're used to seeing the Empire as this evil force of faceless soldiers, as the undefined and vague antagonists our heroes must fight against. This changed with Anakin, we now had the backstory of the evilest guy of all the galaxy, but that's just one person. Who are the stormtroopers? Why are they fighting? They have no visible skin, no names, no history.

Dedra and Syril do. They bleed, they cry, they feel fear.

Palpatine is not here, but his drones are, and they are not wearing helmets (they're wearing ugly hats), we can see their eyes now. The Imperialist colonizers, the fascist military regime, they have faces.

You cannot win against the concept of "Evil". You cannot win against endless batallions of white-armored drones that have no past and no future. But in his last moments, Anakin was just a man, exhausted, breathing hard on the floor of his fortress and prison with his soft tender head exposed, looking at his son. And that's the face of the Empire. They are people. And they are as scared as you are.

I couldn't say it better than Nemik, "oppression is the mask of fear", and in Andor, the fear gets unmasked.

[lamaenthel]

people talking about echo's hand and I'm just sitting here vibrating with anxiety because he's in blank white stormtrooper armor. ya know, just like how Fives was wearing a random shiny's armor when he died

[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:)

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[iamthedukeofurl]

One thing I like about Andor is the conscious choice to have so many of the Imperials unmasked. Like, the Stormtrooper, white-armored, helmet vaguely resembling a skull, is one of the most iconic pieces of Star Wars imagery, up there with the death star and the light sabre. The faceless hordes of the Empire. And it would have been easy to have Stormtroopers everywhere, Stormtroopers on Aldani, Stormtroopers patrolling the streets of Ferrix, Stormtroopers guarding the prison, but they don’t. I recall a few stormtroopers here and there in the finale, but the iconic white armor is fairly thin on the ground in the show. The various imperial troops we see usually show their faces. I think the one big exception is the shore trooper that arrests Cassian. Otherwise, almost every Imperial we see has their face uncovered. If I recall, the Riot-Cop equivalents in the finale don’t even put their goggles on, instead having them sit on their helmets even after the bricks and firebombs start flying. It’s a pretty major departure from the visual language we see elsewhere, where most of the Imperials are either fully armored Stormtroopers or cloth-uniformed Officers shouting orders. And it works because it scales down the nature of the story. Star Wars is a mythic tale about Great Heroes vs the Faceless Hordes of the Empire. As much as Andor is a story about rebellion and resistance, it’s ALSO a story that examines how authoritarian fascist regimes operate, and the answer is that there are a lot of people more than willing to help. By having the Imperials be unmasked, we don’t get to forget that the Empire isn’t just Palpatine and a handful of high-ranking officers with upper-class British accents, it’s people all the way down. Gunfights are not Heroic Rebels vs Faceless Puppets of the Empire, it’s People vs People. The Empire’s authority isn’t projected by human-shaped suites of armor with skull helmets, it’s projected by people who chose to join up with the Empire.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Like Sugar" Cal Kestis x Reader

(A/N: I was wanting to write something for Star Wars Day last year, but also something fluffy. So Cal and Reader are friends, but Reader is kind of pining for this Jedi. I mean, you’ve seen him smile, right? I had been listening to “Sugar” by Sofia Carson, but currently it’s “Hey You” by Aaron Carter. So happy early Valentine's Day! Warnings: fluff Word Count: 924 words)

A coolness of the datapad contrasted against your fingertips. Something small to keep your mind on as you walked up to a closed door on the Stinger Mantis.

Cal’s room. Well, where he slept in the engine room.

You knew how he and Merrin had been out dealing with Imperials. Earlier was no different. Once dealt with, all of you took the ship out of the planetary system. Greez was talented in hiding the crew in space, a fantastic pilot. Quiet and vast.

Even so, spending hours running circles around stormtroopers could be tiring.

You, quite honestly, wanted to make Cal smile and forget about your fight against the Empire. Even for a little while. It could make a difference in his day. You hoped.

He deserved a break, mentally.

The thought to spend time with Merrin did flicker to life, but she had her own routine and knew exactly where you were headed with your datapad. Were you that predictable?

Raising a hand, you knocked.

Not long afterwards, Cal stood before the opened doorway. No poncho in sight.

“Hey.”

“Not asleep yet?” You teased inquisitively.

“No.” He smiled and reached up to push back his hair.

You revealed the datapad from behind your back. “Up for a few funny holovids?”

His eyebrows rose for a fleeting moment. A grin followed soon after. “Definitely.”

Gesturing you inside, Cal lead the way to his small cot and the both of you hopped up on it.

You had been in here time and again, as friends obviously, but that tickle of something always made you hyperaware of his proximity.

All ready having videos in mind, it took no time for you to load them up on the device.

“This one,” you informed him, “is unassuming.”

“Oh?”

You held the datapad aloft between the pair of you as you started the video.

The screen showed a homemade view, spying no doubt, of two stormtroopers on a patrol. A concept dangerous to even attempt as a civilian. Yet there it was on the holonet.

“Here we go,” you whispered.

Every thing was boring and strict as per usual. Two stormtroopers stomping their way towards the edge of some market. That was until the one of the right tripped on nothing at all, tried catching themselves on, also, nothing, and made a quick fall onto the dirt. A mess of white armor.

Snickering, you peered over to Cal.

The young man’s eyebrows were raised in surprise even as a wide grin became visible on his fair, freckled face.

“The Force works in mysterious ways, yes?” You smirked.

Cal bumped your shoulder playfully and replied, “Something like that.”

A happy jolt lightened your chest.

In honesty, you really, really liked Cal. Differently than how you felt about the rest of the crew. It was not fully romantic love, not completely, but it was wonderful.

“Okay,” you said, trying to refocus.

A couple of taps on the datapad and another holovid starring siblings filming each other secretly dancing behind stormtroopers and never being caught. Their faces blurred.

Beside you, Cal practically rolled with laughter.

Your heart soared through the cosmos hearing Cal. So joyful and free. You were a part of it rising to the surface to be shared and heard. To know he felt something other than whatever it was when he was fighting could send you into endless smiling.

“How have they never been caught?”

“Quick reflexes?” You suggested and tapped the screen again.

Shifting closer, he draped an arm over you. Successfully tucking you into his side. His hand just there in your field of vision taking up space and touching nothing. Warmth radiated from him, almost as strong as his dedication to the crew. Cal had a love for everyone on the ship. Green eyes showcasing such warmth, love, and gratefulness.

“Is there another one?” He asked, gesturing to the screen with his other hand.

“Yeah.” The words were out before your brain suggested any form of communication. You hoped he couldn’t register your quickening heartbeat.

“No embarrassing moments in this one though.”

“That’s fine.”

Mixtures of languages and movement sounded from the holovid. A busy cantina with plenty of customers. This one had a view from the far side of the establishment.

“Are you trying to show me food reviews now?” Cal joked.

Keeping quiet, you watched as a loth cat leapt across multiple tables. People shouted and plates scattered as the creature ran amok indoors. A guest offscreen mentioned how it was a droid’s fault for disturbing the cat from it’s spot by the bar. Not one person could catch the speeding loth cat.

“Greez would throw a fit if we adopted one,” Cal chuckled.

“A creature with claws, teeth, and basically did whatever they wanted? Yeah. I could imagine the lecture we’d get.”

“Short and very honest.”

“A very honest: Get that thing outta here.”

At your words, Cal grinned. Pleased to think about his crew, his family, in the most domestic setting.

Too bad it couldn’t be like that more often.

“Another one?” You asked.

“Sure.”

Cal propped his foot on the cot, his knee then just behind your datapad.

“Thank you.” Cal leaned his head back onto the wall.

“For the funnies?”

“Yeah. Thank you. I needed this.” He sighed happily.

“Glad I can help.”

Turning his head to you, even his eyes appeared to smile. Little lines forming at the corners of his eyelids. Creases that showed his contentment.

“You always do.”

Returning Cal’s smile, you added, “And I always will.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

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[clover-hoe]

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.

[greasersinpoodleskirts4cumshots]

[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.

[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.

[tropes-and-tales]

Shadow and Light: Prologue

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC:  1769

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Slow-burn; plot-building.

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up on Nevarro.  Well, that wasn’t true:  it was a series of decisions – some good, some bad – that led you to that forsaken, rocky world.  It was more of a philosophical question.  How did I get here?  Where am I going?

Right now, where you were going was the local cantina.  The drinks were weak, the food was questionable (the vegetables limp, the meat had a queasy grey cast) – but the chatter was good.  The cantina was the only real place to socialize, so it was a motley cast of Nevarro locals, travelers passing through, bounty hunters…and even a few stormtroopers, remnants of the Imperial Army.

You settled into a corner seat and focused on the latter.  Stormtroopers were bad news.  After the fall of the Empire, it was usually just petty thuggery, bullying.  Most stormtroopers had taken off their helmets and melted into the shadows.  Assimilated to local cultures.  Started families, got jobs, explored the galaxy.  But some stayed in their uniforms, and without a central tenant to march to, it was chaos.

Since you landed on Nevarro, you had honed in on the small troop of Stormtroopers stationed nearby.  They weren’t the usual rowdy bunch of bullies – they were regimented and orderly.  They guarded a nearby building that you had scouted a few times.  You weren’t sure what was going on in there, but whatever it was, it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.  The entire building had an aura of evil, and that was before you observed the two chief occupants entering and leaving.  The scientist was bad enough, hiding his beady little eyes behind tinted glasses, but the older man…you could feel the ill intent radiating off of him.

You ordered a cup of the house swill and tuned your ear into the two Stormtroopers sitting nearby.  When you concentrated, the din of the place fell away, and you could make out their conversation.

“They keep sending bounty hunters,” said one.  “But they never come back.”

“They’re all dead,” the other replied confidently. 

“Glad we’re here then.”

You tilted your head in their direction slightly and caught them out of the corner of your eye.  Their helmets were off as they downed tankards of drink.  Their white armor was tinged red from the dust of Nevarro, a little worse for wear like everyone on this awful planet.

The one nearest you signaled for a refill.  “Karga keeps sending new guild members.  At this rate, the guild will be empty before anyone brings the asset back.”

“Wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said the other.  “Heard that Mandalorian is on his way back from Maldo Kreis with a ship full of carbonite.  If anyone can bring the asset back for Pershing, it’s him.”

The other stormtrooper replied by scoffing and muttering something unintelligible, but you had all the information you needed for now.  You knew the Mandalorian they were talking about, and you knew his ship.

Now all you had to do was wait for him…and make him an offer.

*****

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest and immediately made his way to the cantina, zeroing in on Karga.  The guild leader sat in the middle of the room and held court like a little lord, handing out fobs and parsing out outdated currency for jobs.  Back and forth the two went, their little song-and-dance, and the Mandalorian didn’t even mind that Karga called him ‘Mando.’

Finally, the guild leader gave up a good job for him:  off-the-books, pays well, but limited information.  The man handed over a chit, and Mando found himself standing outside of a non-descript building that had more security than seemed necessary.  The building was on a street with storage units and small repair shops.  Whatever was behind those walls – well, it wasn’t a landspeeder repair shop.

He’d admit to himself that it all felt off – the older man sitting at the table as he made an offer that Mando could resist taking.  All that beskar, returned to the Tribe.  Enough to outfit him with a new suit of armor with plenty left over for the foundlings.  And as an enticement, a generous down payment.  Mando pushed down the unease that settled into his gut as he took the down payment and left the building. 

Mandalorians are a hyper-alert people, constantly scanning their perimeter for threats and opportunities.  As Mando made his way through the maze of buildings toward the entrance to the covert, however, he failed to notice the person following him.  Later, he’d blame the pile of beskar steel, tantalizingly within his grasp, and how it would elevate his covert.  Much later, when he knew you, he’d realize that if Mandalorians are stealthy, you were stealthier.  Like a Mandalorian’s shadow, almost.

For now, though, when you reached a tentative hand and laid it on his arm to get his attention, Mando was completely surprised, and his reaction reflected that.  Pure instinct drove him, and he grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm behind your back before pressing you against the wall of a nearby building.

“Who sent you?” he hissed.  He tried to look you over while he held you firm:  you were….species unknown.  He couldn’t see your face under the dun cloth wound around your head – the same dull brown as the buildings.  You blended in.

“No one,” you replied.  Your voice was tight with pain as he gave your wrist a tug, and you added, “we need to talk about your new job.”

“You Guild?”

You shook your head.  Mando paused a moment, then said, “I’m going to let you go.  Keep your hands where I can see them.”

You gave a single nod to that, so he released you and stepped back.  You turned to face him as you gave your wrist an experimental flex, and then you reached up and pushed the hood hiding your face back.  You were human after all.  Or at least looked like one.

“That man gave you a job,” you said, and when Mando didn’t reply, you added, “I want to join you for it.”

Mando was glad for the helmet – it hid the incredulous face he pulled.  Most people scattered when they saw a Mandalorian walking, and you had obviously followed him enough to know where he had just come from.  People feared him, slunk away from him, but you only gazed at the slit in his visor as if you were looking right into his eyes.  In your eyes, he could see fear, but it didn’t seem to be for him.

Who were you?  If you were an assassin, you wouldn’t have given up the advantage you’d had on him.  If you were Guild, why would you lie and say you weren’t?  You didn’t seem old enough to be a bounty hunter.  The more he looked you over through his visor, you didn’t seem old enough to be much of anything other than an apprentice with some easier profession than bounty hunting.

“No,” was all he said, and he turned to leave.  Now that he knew you were following him, he had to go to a different entrance for the covert.

“Wait.”  That hand again on his arm.  It brought more questions to his mind.  It was known that laying a hand on a Mandalorian was a good way to lose said hand, but you didn’t seem to know that fact.  Mando didn’t turn, but he did pause in his step. 

“I…I have information,” you offered.  “I can help.  I don’t want any cut of the bounty, just – “

“No,” he cut you off, curt.  Mando had only gotten the final four digit of the target’s chain code and its location – no way you had any more information that would help him.  He shook your hand off and strode away, and he was alert enough now to know that you weren’t following him.

*****

Your foster-mother had raised you under the idiom:  you can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way.  “It” could be defined as anything she had taught you:  how to cook, how to disassemble and reassemble an engine, how to braid your hair, how to fight.  You, her most troublesome child being raised in a different culture by a different species, almost always did things the hard way first.  It took a long time for that lesson to sink into your skull.

But now, as an adult, you did truly try to do things the easy way.  Following the Mandalorian and reasoning with him was the easy way, and it ended in a bruised wrist and no partnership established.

So, the hard way it was.

You held back and watched the Mandalorian disappear, then went to where you rented a room to gather your stuff.  You traveled light anyway, but you didn’t want to miss the small window you had.  If you knew anything about bounty hunters – Mandalorians especially – it was that they didn’t dally when it came to new jobs.  The one you had spoken to would do his business in the covert (it wasn’t really that covert, in your estimation, but you often saw what others didn’t), then resupply, then leave immediately.

Night was falling by the time the Mandalorian finally returned to the Razor Crest.  Of course, you were already aboard, nestled in the cargo hold between spare canisters of carbon gas and extra ship components.  Like most ship captains, he didn’t even inspect his ship before taking off.  Lazy.  Half of your trips around the galaxy were as a stowaway on ships with lazy captains.

You waited for the tell-tale sign of hyperspace – that pleasant little dip you got in your stomach – and then you waited a little more.  You listened to the creaks and pings the old ship made, and then you took a deep breath and stood up.  You didn’t hear any other noises beyond the Razor Crest journeying through space, but that didn’t mean much.  Mandalorians could be quiet even with all that armor.

Still, he was probably in the cockpit.  That was your best bet.  Catch him sitting, hold him at the end of your bo-rifle, and hope you could get enough words out to convince him before he shot you with his blaster or shot you into deep space.

You’d talked yourself out of worse situations.  Your foster-mother had always told you (and only in exasperation half of the time) that you had a clever mind and a cleverer tongue.  You hoped both would be enough for the Mandalorian.

[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