as seems to be weirdly tradition when coming back to this blog after a long time on the others, i am once more contemplating a fc change. this time, it is... shock and awe, jag.
i have rich.ard mad.den right now, and he does resemble some art as well as has the same eye color AND actually has the same hair streak (minus scar, though it gets dyed a lot) as jag but on the opposite side.
however, i'm considering changing to call.um tur.ner because not only does he perhaps have more of the air of jag but also greatly resembles most of the jag art.
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đ´đťđťđ° đđđ´đźđ°đ¸đ˝đ´. independent, headcanon centered. godmothered by kitty.
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( resistancesheirâ )   â˛Â  POE DAMERON:
@ofsquadrons send:Â any man that would shoot another man in the back doesnât deserve to be known or remembered . Â (from jag)
âno, everyone should be remembered.â he responds without looking up from his work, the other man floats in his awareness but he doesnât feel as though he poses a direct threat, so he doesnât try and force himself to meet his eyes. he wouldnât do it well tonight, too many battles and ghosts and terrible things in his mind tonight. âbeing remembered doesnât always mean itâs positive, the bad things too.â
poe has killed more people then he can count at this point, most of them he never even saw their faces, but he remembers the final shot that sent them spinning out of the air every single time. âi think that you need to remember what drove someone to that place, to those actions, that way you see it coming in the future.â
he looks at jag after that, letting the darkness in his eyes punctuate his point. âbesides, when someone tries to shoot me in the back they tend to be quite memorable. â
            listless in the cradle of zero-gravity, very little to be accomplished of any sort until dameron finished his repairs to the stationâs systems, jagged found himself even further aggravated than he would typically find himself by general inanity.   â  that isnât what iâm referring to.  â   short, sharp, to the point, the tie pilot merely crossed his arms as he rested, suspended, a healthy distance the other.  that he would have to explain himself in these circumstances⌠certainly he could choose to not, but where was the productivity in that?  if there was any to be mined from this encounter.
            â  thereâs a difference between remembering mistakes and remembering who someone was, giving them honor where they had none.  â   it was much the equivalent to the battles he partook in from within his fighter: he hardly ever saw the face of his enemy, never knew their name.  yet, he would freely speak praise of those who fought well, while he choose to point out the failings of those without honor without any other comment.   â  youâre speaking of the former, of analyzing those aspects of a being.  iâm referring to the whole, to doing anything that might make someone thing theyâre someone to emulate or to speak of them when there isnât a need.  â
            the resistance pilot held a very narrow view of remembrance, or at least that was how it seemed.
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His hands were created
to be cold and destructive;
to be deadly towards whatever stopped him from accomplishing his mission.
And yet,
when they rest upon you,
theyâre warm and sentient
Yesterdayâs Wake (a Detroit Become Human fanfic)
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( visionhaunted )â   â˛Â  JACEN SOLO :
â @ofsquadronsâ said:â maybe youâre not ready to talk just now. but i want you to know that, whenever you are, my door is always open to you. understand? â ( wedge )
  There was a certain feeling of embarrasment at being caught at â what exactly was it? His failure to contain his emotions? His inability to remain calm and collected as a Jedi knight his age should? Maybe it was frustration at the fact he had been caught dealing with emotions he had been so sure he had put under control years ago. He was supposed to be better than this, he was supposed to be in CONTROL. â Thats nice but Iâm fine, uncle Wedge. â But he knew he could smile and nod all he wanted now, if the old pilot had caught wind of the mess inside his head without even needing the force to sense any of it then it was clearly getting to a point where hiding it was currenlty impossible. Heâd have to work on that. â Did dad say anything? Or my sister? I donât know where this is coming from, Iâm fine, I swear. â Liar. He wanted to be fine, HAD to be. The world needed him to be fine, to be able to concentrate on doing the right thing before focusing on himself.
           salt and peppered brows furrowed tightly at the young manâs reaction to his concern and the offer intertwined with it.  nothing he wasnât expecting, yet the otherâs decision to hold back still smarted just as much as if he had.   it was excellent, the front his honorary nephew put up for the world, yet still, he knew something ached beneath it.   the corellian didnât need to see it to believe it existed.   â  no one has been saying anything.  â   annoyance rung in the soloâs words, even if none appeared in his tone, but wedge was nothing if patient, especially after so many years of dealing with hotshot rookie pilots⌠and the occasional obstinate smuggler.   â  itâs coming from your life, kid.  anyone who has been through as much as you, barely a moment of slowing down for cycles on end, theyâre running from something.  â   his worry bled easily into his dark eyes, a hand settling against the otherâs bicep, praying jacen would accept his sincerity.   â  take it from someone who once did the exact same thing⌠i donât need the force to see youâre hurting.  â
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( visionhauntedâ )   â˛Â   JACEN SOLO :
â @ofsquadronsâ said: â everythingâs gonna be okay, i promise. just tell me where you are, okay? and iâll come and get you right this second. â ( luke )
  He had told Ben to go back without him, fed him some lies about needing to do further research and take care of paperwork regarding what had happened with Nelani â it wasnât entirely a lie. He did have to take care of what had happened in the caves but his work had consisted more of COVERING his tracks than genuinely dealing with the aftermath of losing a jedi on his watch. The more he had dealt with erasing any trace of Lumiya and what had really happened to Nelani the worse he felt about it. It was on his way home, finally getting away from Lorrd, when his conscience and the weight of what he had done fully dawned upon him all at once. Yes, he had murdered Nelani, a woman who had TRUSTED him out of fear of the future, out of love to his uncle Luke who he hoped to spare by preventing a future in which they had to be enemies. But he knew his uncle would tell him this wasnât a price worth paying, it wasnât the right thing to do even if it felt like the force was guiding him to accept it. Was he being deceived? Was Lumiya creating these situations to lure him into trusting her? He had seen the future, several futures, all leading to certain doom as long as Nelani lived. Did that justify him striking her down? A woman, a girl, whose worst crime was existing at the wrong moment at the wrong place?
   He was closing in on Coruscant now but unable to land when his fear overtook him â in almost childish motion he had reached out to his uncle only for a SECOND before forcing his shields up again and his emotions back into the corner of his mind where he could lock them up and ignore them but it had been enough for Luke to sense something was horribly wrong and contact him through his comm. Luke knew he was close now, there would have been no way to ignore him without raising more suspicions and the moment he had seen his uncleâs face appear in the holographic projection of his comm, his worried expression ⌠it had all come crumbling down. The calm facade he had worked on for YEARS â gone in an instant. â I canât ⌠I canât come home after what Iâve done. Akanah warned me I shouldnât have left, I wasnât ready â now my ignorance has caused a Jediâs death. â It was as if all the things he had fought to keep at bay over the last decade suddenly came spilling out without any chance of holding anything in. â You wouldnât understand it, you werenât there when â â He couldnât say it, couldnât admit to how Nelani had died, how he had trusted the words of a sith over that of his fellow Jedi. His uncle wouldnât see what he had seen.
           for months, there had been a worry burrowing itself deep into his consciousness, unavoidable and even more disturbing.  the worry was for his remaining nephew, the hints of change within the man hardly bestowing him with much confidence that the shifts of the otherâs being were entirely beneficial.  certainly, after thirty cycles in life, anyone would be due to morph however slightly as they gained maturity, but none of this called to him as something so benign.  watching jacen with a careful eye, often from afar, he began to doubt his choices, doubt his trust, yet nothing screamed into the force with enough volume to shove him into action.  though certainty slowly crept onwards, he wanted to believe it was somehow a misjudgment, wanted to release this fear into the force to be utterly forgotten.
           if it had for a moment left the forefront of his mind, the brush of pure, barely contained terror ripped it forward once more.
           lukeâs fingers gripped the chair before him, not out of any weakness brought on by some mental violence, but rather how the edge of certainty now shook him to his core.  something was wrong.  perhaps it wasnât the pall of darkness unknowingly lowering over the man, but rather something much more present and acknowledged.  without a second thought, the jedi master keyed in his nephewâs comm code, nearly wishing he could order the other to pick up through the force as his forehead creased with each heartbeat.  as it was, it felt as if minutes passed in the handful of seconds which passed before the man answered.   before he could even take a full breath, the stoic mask he was first presented with disintegrated before his very eyes, only increasing the steadily more apparent thrum of panic within his veins.  his offer tumbled out without much thought, the tight hold he held his remaining calm within remaining intact.
           yet, he abhorred where his first inclination led him with the sum of the little information he had before him: that jacenâs admittance to a part in nelaniâs death was far greater than mere ignorance⌠ with a vicious slap, he pushed the thought down, far from useful to him in this present moment.  lids slipped shut over grey-blue eyes, half a breath taken before he repeated himself, attempting to ground the knight in the now, not whatever past actions tore at his heart.   â  no, i donât, but iâm sure i will once you explain, jacen.  just tell me where you are.  â   he sincerely meant his words with every fiber of his being.   â  whatever has happened, youâll be okay.  â
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âJag bowed and offered a little heel click. âAt your service,â he said. He reached up to throw back his cloak hood, revealing the features, Luke remembered. His was a lean face with startlingly bright green eyes and a scar leading up from his brow to his hairline. His hair was still dark, a bit longer than the military haircut he had once typically worn, with a mop of it hanging almost in his right eye; where his scar entered his hairline, one stripe of hair was white. The trim, rakish beard and moustache were new, and gave him an even greater resemblance to his father, the famous Soontir Fel
Star Wars legacy of the force: exile page 51
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  â  we  took  a  wrong  turn .  â (wedge!)  â˛Â  @hopegainedâ
            â  that we did.  â    itâs practically mumbled under the older manâs breath, one hand resting practically upon the grip of the blaster on his hip, the other gently gripping at the youngerâs shoulder.  the pair so far had gone seemingly unnoticed by the troopers at the opposite end of the alley, but the second they turned their backs on the white armored patrol, no doubt theyâd take notice.  there wasnât a twinkle in his dark eyes of recalling the past days when he found himself in similar situations with eronâs father by his side.  instead, there was only a grim set to his lips.   â  you ready, kid?  â   there was only one way out of this situation potentially alive⌠and oh, how he hated it.
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you filled yourself up with so much light,
you forgot about the shadows thatâd follow,
so you blew a kiss to the stars,
and asked them: how do I survive?
and they answered: itâs simple. you burn.
and you have been dying ever since // k.s. (via worthygamora)
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  â  it  wasnât  right ,  the  way  it  all  went  down .  â (luke)  â˛Â  @hopegainedâ
            a weariness settled over his features, creasing further the lines that time and sorrow inscribed.   â  no.  no, it wasnât.  â   how many were his mistakes?  immeasurable, at the very least in the harm they inflicted upon those he cared for the most.  everything crumbled about them and to some degree, at least a portion of the galaxy spanning destruction remained his fault.   â  i donât expect forgiveness, eron, but i still want to apologize to you.  â    more than ever before, he could understand the weight which dragged at leiaâs shoulders, facing the consequences of his decisions.  she had sent her son to him believing that he could care for his needs better than she ever could, and in his leaving the sight of the galaxy, heâd done the much the same to her in return after failing ben.  he baulked at the idea that she had any portion of guilt in what occurred that night, but he had most certainly failed both boys with his decisions, one after the other.
            â  of anyone, i should have at least explained myself to you.  â
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JACK LOWDEN as River Cartwright in Slow Horses (2022) S01E06
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  â tell me you have a back-up plan. â (jag)  â˛Â  @hopegainedâ
            green gaze stabbed in the direction of the looming opponent, though for the moment they found themselves unlikely allies.  blaster clutched tightly in his operable hand, he refocused on the lurking wildlife, some sort of canine species that most certainly did not appear friendly.   â  why should i have to be the one with a backup plan?  â    words growled low and soft, the tie pilot didnât wish to draw any additional attention from the circling pack, but speaking was, sadly, necessary.   â  are all you this uncreative?  â   that might be a low blow, but frankly, he couldnât bring himself to care, especially in the face of potential incompetence.
            the other might not have an emergency beacon, but jagged not only had, but it remained operational, the gentle electronic whirr a comforting sound when heâd leapt from his cockpit.  there was only so many minutes they would have to hold out before someone would come searching for one or the other, though he could only hope it was the first order and not the resistance or whatever other insurgent group this one allied himself with.   â  my backup plan is standing back to back and shooting anything that lunges at us.  got a better plan?  â
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Jag stared a moment at Hanâs chair, then sat in it. He glanced at Leia, his posture typically rigid.
âDonât tell anybody Iâm doing this.â
âDoing what?â
Slowly, methodically, he leaned back in a typically Han Solo-esque slouch. Once his back was flush against the angled back of the aged chair, he put his elbow up on the table, propped his head against his hand.
Leia laughed at him. âHow does it feel?â
âSo wrong, I can barely describe it. How has your husband managed not to sustain spinal damage all these years?â
âStubbornness.â
âJainaâs certainly inherited it. Stubbornness, I mean. Not bad posture.â
âShe got her posture from my side of the family.â Leia sobered.
Fury: LOTF series. (via solofanatics)
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  â iâm not very optimistic about our odds. â (anyone!)  â˛Â  @hopegainedâ
            the chill of damp seeped through the thin fibers of the undershirt plastering to tychoâs back, the steady drizzle seeping between his rainslick jumpsuit and his neck.  resting his spine against the dirt embankment, he cast a steady glance at the young man beside him, a solid nod his initial response.  eron had plenty of reasons to worry, at least two dozen of them, milling about only a few hundred meters away, inspecting the crash site⌠which would swiftly lead to their discovering their bodies were not in the shattered craft.  and then, the games would begin until the pair either found a way off this misty planet or rescue arrived.
            with an almost contained sigh, the older man rolled back onto his stomach, reaching out to lay a firm hand upon the otherâs shoulder.   â  iâve faced worse odds, but this time, iâve got you.  â   there wasnât a reassuring smile upon his drawn lips, but the greyed pilot projected warmth toward his friend and former commanderâs son nonetheless.   â with that in mind, i think we have more than a survivable chance.  â
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