#DEATH TROOPERS?!?!?!?!?!??! IN MY CANON STAR WARS!!?!?!?!? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibrantbirdy · 10 months

Note

Helllloooooo~ your writing is fab! May I please request some Cal Kestis x Reader fiction???? Could the scenario please be that the reader was once a jedi padawan along with Cal and they were best friends and maybe have a little child crush on each other and they got separated due to order 66? Then, you guessed it, they find each other after all these years and it's all fluffy and they realise their true feelings and everything adorable?? Please and thank you! Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Anon, thank you so much for your kind words and thank you for this request! I really love writing for Cal!

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Familiarity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor games Setting: Prior to the events of Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Action/adventure; Fluff; Angst; Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Canon typical combat violence; canon typical death/angst/survivor's guilt relating to Order 66; mild sexuality; one claustrophobic scene due to ruined temple adventuring; SPOILERS for Jedi: Fallen Order and minor ones for the set up to Survivor. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: c.8k (this one got away from me!) Author's note: I couldn't write about Order 66 without a little angst but hopefully there's still plenty of fluff and romance and adventure to be found here! Summary: Believing each other lost to the brutal purge of the Emperor's Order 66, ten years after you were separated from your childhood best friend during the systematic eradication of the Jedi Order, you and Cal Kestis are finally reunited amid the strange Temple ruins of an ancient civilisation.

10 years ago

"Run!" Jedi Master Rena Daylum commands as the Clone Troopers who were once your trusted comrades turn their blasters towards you.

Master Daylum dispatches them quickly as you ignore her instruction and ignite your own lightsaber. The purple blade hums into life and you ready yourself for the next squad of Troopers.

But before your saber is even fully extended, a burst of energy hits you squarely in the chest and you fly backwards, skidding across the hard durasteel floor on your backside.

As you look up in surprise, you can't help the childish dart of hurt that stings your pride as you see Master Daylum, her palm extended towards you, and realise that she has pushed you away. She's never used the Force on you like that before.

"For once in your life, Padawan, do as you are told!"

Daylum extends her hand again and the control panels on the open blast door between you explode in a shower of sparks. Even as you run back towards her, the heavy metal doors hiss closed and lock shut in front of you.

With little other choice, you carry out the instruction you've been given and run. You are more frightened than you've ever been in your young life. As you sprint down the Venator-class Destroyer's corridors, you reach out for your Master in the Force. You sense only a dark void where her comforting, consistent presence had always been and in that moment, you know that she is gone forever.

The Albedo Brave, despite her rather sterile appearance with her harsh florescent lighting, her heavy, threatening blast doors and cold metal walls, had seemed homely to you only this morning.

Now the ship feels almost alien. The emergency lighting flashes intermittently, illuminating the corridors with an eerie crimson glow, and the mournful wail of the alarm seems to all but scream in your head.

You hide in a maintenance closet as another squad of Clones pass by. The once familiar voices of the Troopers now sparks a deep dread within you. Over the past month you've been aboard the Brave, you had started to recognise the individual Clones from their personal intonations and patterns of speech, even with their helmets on. Now, their tone is uniform, cold and robotic. And deadly. And this ship is teeming with them.

You think you are heading in the right direction towards the escape pods, but you are far from certain. Upon embarking, you'd been so thrilled about your first assignment to a Venator and the fact that your fellow Padawan and best friend, Cal Kestis, was already onboard. But this excitement meant that you hadn't really paid all that much attention to the safety drill with Master Daylum.

You always thought she'd be here to guide you if anything happened...

As you continue to stumble lost and alone through the gargantuan ship you once called home, you halt abruptly as you think you hear someone shout your name over the blaring alarm.

You look up towards the source of the sound and see Cal peering down at you through the grated walkway of the maintenance corridor above. There is a screech of metal as he removes the heavy durasteel access panel.

"Cal? The Clones ... they killed Master Daylum. She's ... dead," you manage to stammer, "What's happening?"

You feel your face crumple as fresh tears begin to fall. You wipe them away and Cal can only look at you with an expression of sympathy and grief on his kind, honest face.

You both jump as you hear blaster fire nearby. You need to move.

Cal lays himself flat on his stomach and reaches his arm down towards you.

"Come on!"

He stretches out a hand. It hangs agonisingly close, just out of your reach. Your fingertips barely brush against his.

"Jump!"

You try to centre yourself in the Force, but in your panic and confusion, you are completely closed off from it. All you can manage is a pitiful little hop.

"I can't Cal, I can't... I can't feel anything!"

The boy shuffles further off the ledge. He obviously has his feet hooked round the durasteel support struts as anchor points. Still, it looks impossible, but you bend your knees and spring up and off the metal floor.

Somehow, Cal grabs your hand.

Cal is the same age as you - thirteen - but due to a recent growth spurt you are a good few inches taller than him now. You've been teasing him mercilessly about it recently and he has been taking it with his characteristic good nature, biting back with quick witted retorts.

Neither of you are laughing about it now.

You are dangling just inches off the ground and, despite his best efforts, Cal simply doesn't have the strength to pull you up from this angle. He has no leverage. Eventually his grip slips and you fall away from him, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You look up at Cal, his expression of alarm mirroring what you assume your own must looks like.

“Try again," he whispers urgently, his green eyes wide and desperate.

He extends his arm with all his might, splaying his palm as if the extra few millimetres will make any difference to your predicament.

You twist around from your position on the floor as a new sound carries down the Venator's passageways. Voices. There are voices now. Clones just beyond the nearest blast door. You took your lightsaber to the control panel, sealing it shut as best you could, but it won't take them long to get through.

You lift your gaze back to Cal - your friend, your best friend - and shake your head.

"I'll meet you there," you say, trying to sound brave and reassuring.

Cal hisses your name as you take off down the corridor away from him. You can't bear to turn around and see the lost, pleading expression on his face so you run around the corner out of his sight and you don't look back.

--------------------------------------------------------

Present day

This is not going well, Cal Kestis thinks wryly to himself as spins his lightsaber in his hand, the blue laser blocking blaster bolts and sending them ricocheting back towards the Stormtroopers firing them his way.

The fire from the Troopers is relentless and more and more units in white clad armour continue to pour in through the great ceremonial entrance of the Temple to the ancient Spori civilization.

It is clear to the Jedi now that he has severely underestimated the scale of the Empire's presence on Spori, and their interest in the ruined Temple.

As he raises his saber above his head to parry a strike from a Scout Trooper with a stun baton, he groans inwardly as he remembers the misplaced confidence with which he'd bid farewell to the rest of the crew of the Mantis as they dropped him off and set out on a supply run.

"In and out," he'd quipped. "Easy."

Idiot.

Cal's constant companion, the small bipedal droid, BD-1, is crouched low atop his usual resting place on the Jedi's shoulder. He peeks out every so often to analyse the increasingly desperate situation beeping and whirring unsolicited combat advice in binary.

"Yeah buddy, I know, I know, I know..." Cal mutters through gritted teeth as he is forced to swing his lightsaber in what has become a series of exclusively defensive manoeuvres.

The pace is unsustainable.

*********************************************

You are perched on the shoulder of a gargantuan stone statue, a grand monument to a respected Spori High Priestess. You gaze down at swathes of Stormtroopers as they pour into the ruined Temple.

You've just retrieved a data archive from the inner sanctum of the Temple. The Spori were an ancient civilization who, above all else valued knowledge and spent hundreds if not thousands of years collating information on other peoples, some now lost to the mists of time or ravages of war, including the Jedi.

When you'd heard about the Imperial invasion of Spori, you knew you needed to retrieve the archive in order to preserve any surviving ancient knowledge of the Jedi Order before the Empire could either destroy it or use it for some nefarious purpose...

When you first arrived, although you'd had to evade the occasional Imperial patrol on your trek from the Spori capital across the planet's rugged landscape, there was not the slightest hint of Imperial presence around the Temple itself. It was practically peaceful.

Now, it looked like the Empire had deployed an entire kriffing garrison to the ancient ruin.

From the safety of your high vantage point you watch the chaos unfold below. Or, more accurately, you stare in disbelief at the shockingly familiar figure wielding a blue lightsaber at the very eye of the storm.

"Cal," you breathe out his name.

He's older of course, but it's unquestionably Cal Kestis. You'd recognise that flaming red hair anywhere. He has a short beard to match now and, annoyingly, you come to the conclusion that he has undergone a considerable growth spurt in the last decade or so and he now looks to be much taller than you.

He has a little red and white droid with him. It clings to the Jedi's back, swaying perfectly in tune with its master's movements, never finding itself unbalanced. It's as if the BD unit is an extension of Cal's anatomy.

Cal moves with determination and confidence, striking and parrying with alarming accuracy and speed. It is the fighting form of a competent and experienced warrior, his physicality at once both elegant and deadly. It's a far cry from the stilted and unsure combat stance of the young boy who used to pull his punches in training.

Still, the Troopers just keep on coming and Cal is obviously tiring. He is now on the back foot and will soon be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Imperial soldiers.

You need to do something.

Scanning your surroundings, your eyes clock the huge, monolithic stone lintel slab hanging above the ceremonial entrance to the Temple. There's a weakness in the left side pillar. If you brought it down with the Force, you could seal off the Imp's only ingress point. Then you would only have to dispatch of the Stormtroopers already inside.

You'll have to find another way out of the ruin itself of course, but that's a problem for later. The situation is becoming dire and this is the thing you can think of to do.

Suddenly, a Rocket Trooper dives at great velocity and collides into Cal, slamming his boots into the trunk of the Jedi's body and sending the him sprawling across the floor where he curls into a ball,. His lightsaber rolls across the flagstones with a mournful clinking sound.

You stand up, using the Force to balance and centre yourself, to find strength. You puff out your cheeks and exhale sharply through your lips. Then, you jump.

*************************************************

Cal writhes on the ground clutching his abdomen at the agonising point of impact where the Trooper had barrelled feet into him feet first.

Didn't see that one coming.

He gasps in deep lungfuls of air as he desperately tries to regulate his breathing through the pain.

Another broken rib? No. Thank the Force. But he's severely winded and there'll be bruising for sure. He knows he needs to move but kriff it hurts.

BD-1, who was thrown from his shoulder on impact, is now dancing from foot to little metallic foot next to him, urging him to get up.

Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable song of another lightsaber and he looks up in awe to see a stranger standing in front of him, purple blade cutting through the air and deflecting the continuing onslaught of blaster bolts.

The figure is hooded, and even when they are forced to turn towards him as they wheel around to interrupt the advance of a Scout Trooper attempting to flank them, he can't see the face hidden behind the folds of material.

Something in the Force nags at him. There is a strange familiarity in the presence of this mysterious warrior who has come to his aid.

Spurred on by curiosity, Cal steels himself and tries to rise, extending out a hand to bring his lightsaber into his hand with the Force. Too late, he registers a flash of white in his peripheral vision as a Stormtrooper's boot collides with his temple and everything snaps into blackness.

***********************************************

You've been stood watch beside an unconscious Cal for almost ten minutes. The dust is still settling from the avalanche of rock you brought tumbling down to the ancient Temple floor. The plan worked. Tonnes of rubble now separate you and Cal from the Empire.

You look down at your childhood friend. Blacked out from a kick to the head or not, you can't believe he slept though that noise. You're just starting to get worried when he finally stirs and groans. His little droid, who has since introduced himself as BD-1, boops hopefully.

"Cal?"

His green eyes, still shockingly familiar despite the passage of time, flicker open. When they finally focus and lock on to yours, they widen in alarm.

Cal leaps clumsily to his feet and stumbles backwards away from you. Disoriented and in pain, he staggers, one hand clutching at his side with the movement, the other held out in from of him. His mouth is agape, and he stares at you as if he's seen a ghost.

Cal says your name as if it's a question. It's barely a whisper.

“Yes,”

“You're...here?" His voice is faltering, unsure. "You're not...?”

Dead? You think he's going to say.

"...not a dream?

“It's me Cal," you reply and your voice is hushed with emotion, "it's really me.”

Cal drops heavily to his knees and you dart forwards to catch him, fearing he's about to pass out again. Instead, when you are kneeling face to face, he grasps your hands in his.

“I can't believe it,” he says breathlessly.

You bring your forehead to rest against his for a moment until he pulls you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe. You return it anyway, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing as if to prove to him that you are not an illusion or some cruel trick of the Force.

He winces and it breaks the spell. You let him go and cast your eyes over him, examining for wounds.

"Force, sorry," you apologise, "Anything broken?"

Cal gingerly lifts up his dark grey shirt which is filthy with dust and grime but no visible blood. He reveals one side of his bruised torso and you can't help but notice how, under the welts, the muscles there are sculpted and strong. Even on this small part of his body, his skin is littered with scars. Like you, it seems, Cal is living the life of a warrior.

"Not this time..." he quips, letting the material fall back into place.

BD-1 jumps up onto Cal's shoulder and gives him a little butt with his flat, rectangular head. The droid ejects a small cannister from one of his compartments and Cal catches it, injecting green liquid into his chest. A healing stim.

"Thanks buddy."

Cautiously, Cal pushes himself to his feet where he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the huge pile of rubble covering what was once the grand and sacred entrance to the Spori Temple.

"That got anything to do with you?" he asks, gesturing casually at the mess.

You dust off your hands as you rise to stand beside him.

"Someone had to save your ass. Thought I might as well make an impression on the Empire at the same time."

He looks at you and for the first time since you've reunited with him, he smiles properly. Your heart soars. It's the same boyish grin you remember so well.

"Could be a problem."

"Maybe not..." you reply as you pull out the data pad you'd loaded up with an Old Republic era holo map of the Temple. The technological backflips you'd had to do to get that thing to run on your device...

BD-1 boops indignantly.

That's my job.

"Look at these tunnels," you continue, placating the little droid with a gentle pat to the head as you speak, "they connect to various ceremonial chambers, some functional rooms too, and then out the other side. I think they were once service passageways. It's the long way round, it'll take us a couple of days but..."

"Why are you here?" Cal asks suddenly, as if the thought has only just occurred to him.

He's looking at you questioningly. It's not suspicion. It's a sort of sharp curiosity, and you suddenly become aware of the obvious. That you and Cal are here for the same purpose.

Nevertheless, you trust him implicitly. You bend down and reach into your small knapsack which is currently resting by your feet. You rummage around until you find the tiny golden data sphere which holds the Spori culture archive.

"Why are you here?" You counter, although you suspect your theory must be correct.

Sure enough, Cal raises his eyebrows and nods towards the object in your palm.

"Figures," you say.

You are interrupted by the unmistakable din of a laser firing through rock. The Empire have obviously brought in heavy duty cutting equipment. They must want the Spori archive more than you thought.

"Work it out later?" Cal suggests.

You nod in agreement, before stuffing the data sphere back into your bag and grabbing Cal's hand, leading him briskly towards the nearest service tunnel marked on your map.

***************************************************

You and Cal follow the old passageways for miles. The two of you fall back into your old, easy way of conversation as if no time has passed at all. Your laughter echoes through the ruin, filling up forgotten rooms and dormant chambers where the ring of voices has not been heard in centuries.

Finally, the tunnel you are following leads out to a cavernous ceremonial chamber. It is an extravagantly long hall and all the way down there are huge pillars, inset with hundreds of alcoves where candles must once have been placed for illumination. You try to imagine a grand feast being held here, priests and dignitaries and attendants all floating across the chamber in their opulent ceremonial garb.

Cal nudges you, starting you out of your reverie. You look at him and he nods down the long room towards the furthest two pillars in the distance.

"Race ya."

"Oh, you are so on, Kestis," You accept and crouch into a starting position, welcoming a chance to properly stretch your legs. "On three...One..."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Cal suddenly exclaims, holding up his hands. "Not so fast. On three or after three?"

You turn to him and roll eyes as you register the mischievous smirk on his face. You've had this argument so many times.

"Remember that race with Kya and Mez?" He snorts with laughter, "You were so mad!"

"That's because you all cheated!" You argue and you can't believe that over a decade later, that particular defeat still riles you. "Everybody knows when you say on three, that means you go after three."

"No, that's what after three means!" Cal protests, your seriousness surrounding the situation only causing his mirth to increase.

You know he's right, but you were always so competitive back then. You always wanted, needed to win. Master Daylum had tried to temper and hone that determined spirit into something more refined but, even now, you aren't sure that you've even been able to tame that particular fault in your nature.

You remember once in sparring training, you'd thrown down your training saber in annoyance.

"Why are you doing that?!" You yelled at Cal, who was partnering you, storming across to him and shoving him hard in the chest.

You were convinced that he was holding back with his strikes and it was making you irate. You wanted a proper fight otherwise your victory would be hollow.

"Just because you are scared of everything doesn't mean I am!"

You'd stalked off, leaving him with an expression of shock and hurt on his face. Within five minutes, you'd regained your composure and your insides squirmed with the shame and guilt of unjustly embarrassing your friend.

Later that night, you'd snuck into Cal's quarters to apologise. He accepted with his usual good grace and, as you left, you'd placed a chaste peck on his cheek which made his face turn almost as red as his hair.

Cal was always quick to forgive you after that.

"Ok, ok, fine," you concede, bringing your mind back to the present.

You are unable to stop a smile spreading across your face as Cal struggles to stop his chuckling beside you. You'd always found his laughter infectious and nothing seemed to have changed there. Maybe, maybe you can see the funny side now.

"After three then," you say.

You both adopt a low stance in preparation to dart forwards and get the best start possible. You look at each other and grin and Cal starts to count.

"One...two...three..."

Before Cal can say go!, you set off at a blistering pace. You hear a scrabble of boots on loose stones and an indignant shout of hey! behind you as he scrambles into a run after you. From his perch on Cal's shoulder, BD-1 trills a similar reproval.

You laugh, exhilarated. The wind rushes in your face and through your hair as you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can. You feel like a child again. You feel free.

As you push your body harder, you reach into the Force and you sense the strength of Cal's presence, both familiar and new, in tune with yours. Something warm blooms inside you. It's as if a piece of you has been missing all these years.

It's meant to be like this, you think.

Cal is fast but you've always been quicker than him, your nimble frame allowing you to cover the ground like something feline. Even with his new advantage of height and longer legs, there's no way he'll catch you now as you speed towards the pillars and victory.

You raise your arms in triumph as you cross the makeshift finish line. You turn and Cal is right on your tail, BD-1 crouched low on his shoulder as if to be the cause of the least wind resistance possible.

Cal barely slows as he swoops behind you, grabbing you by the waist. You shriek with laughter and he picks you up and spins you around before setting your feet back down on the crumbling flagstones.

"Cheat!" He accuses, but his expression is joyful and his eyes sparkle with glee.

He puts his hands on his knees and folds over in an exaggerated gesture of catching his breath.

"Now you know what it feels like," you counter, and you slump down against the nearest pillar, enjoying the sensation of the cool stone against your back.

Cal joins you so that you are sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"Force, you're still so competitive," he says.

"And you're still such a sore loser."

You stick your tongue out at him and you both laugh.

You suddenly realise how tired you are. You and Cal have been walking and scrambling and clambering across miles of difficult, dangerous terrain for hours. The Temple is mostly in ruin now and so many parts of it have collapsed or caved in, placing obstacle after unexpected obstacle in your path.

"Rest?"

Cal takes a swig of water from his canteen pouch and grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

-------------------------------------------------------

10 years ago

"Padawan, your lightsaber!" Master Tapal admonishes as Cal's weapon skids across the floor and plummets into the oblivion of the turbo-lift shaft.

There is an uncharacteristic note of panic in his Master's voice. It causes a spike of fear to pierce through the young Padawan's very soul and makes him more afraid than even the betrayal of the once friendly Clones, the onslaught of blaster fire that seems to come at him from every direction, and the screeching, disorienting cacophony of the Venator's blaring alarms put together.

"Sorry Master!" Cal exclaims as he scrambles onwards and upwards, towards the escape pods feeling vulnerable and helpless without his weapon.

****************************************************

His Master lies dead on the floor before him. As the escape pod gives a terrifying shudder as it disengages from the Venator, Cal throws himself into one of the vessel's seats, fumbling to secure his safety belt.

He wonders what's become of you. The guilt and shame of his failure washes over him anew as he remembers your stricken face as you fell away from his grasp. He wasn't strong enough to help you. If you're dead, it'll be all his fault. Just like his Master.

The young Padawan clutches his Tapal's lightsaber tightly to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. Finally, he allows himself to let out a wail of despair as he hurtles through space alone towards the planet of Bracca and the unknown.

-----------------------------------------------------

Present Day

Cal is still asleep. You're not sure how - he can't possibly be comfortable. He's lying flat on his back, arms folded across his chest, using a low stone slab as a makeshift pillow.

You have no idea whether the Empire have been successful in their efforts to break through into the Temple and you know you really should get going. But Cal looks so peaceful, you don't want to wake him. Not yet.

Fondly, you examine his face, reacquainting yourself with the constellations of freckles that sit on his nose and cheeks. You still can't get over how grown up he looks. How handsome he's become. The beard gives him a rather dashing appearance.

You wonder how he got that scar across his nose which disappears as it reaches his right cheek then reappears again on his neck. You don't doubt he's got many such marks from his scrapper's life on Bracca.

Deftly, you reach out with the Force. You smile. Elements of his presence feel so familiar to you - Earnest, honest, kind-hearted Cal.

But there is also determinedness, a level headedness, and a self-assuredness you've never felt from him before. You feel a rush of emotion as you realise it reminds you of the steady, secure feeling you used to sense from Master Tapal once you'd stopped being scared of the purple Lasat's outwardly stern demeanour and truly giagantic size.

Whenever you and Cal got into trouble - or, perhaps more accurately, whenever you got Cal into trouble - by sneaking out into the Gardens of the Jedi Temple after hours or some such similar escapade, Master Daylum would almost always lead the reprimand, while Master Tapal would merely observe, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

As an adult, you understand now that the Lasat considered your independent spirit and rebellious nature to be a good balancer for his sometimes overly cautious and uncertain Padawan.

You retrain your mind on Cal. There's something else, something he hides, deep within himself. You realise it's the same bitter collection of feelings that you have struggled with every day since the violent extermination of your Order.

Doubt. Grief. Fear.

You pull back, realising you are teetering on the edge between curiosity and trespass. As if the you have summoned these unpleasant notions to the surface of the sleeping young man's psyche, Cal starts to mumble in his sleep. He twists and jerks as if he's having a terrible nightmare.

You crouch beside him and shake him gently by the shoulder in a desperate attempt to wake him. It takes longer than you would like and as he catapults back into consciousness, he sits bolt upright, his broad shoulders heaving up and down as his breath comes in short, sharp pants.

His eyes flash wildly as he reorients himself and when they finally lock on to yours they blaze with the intensity of green kyber. It's as if he's relieved all over again to see that you are alive.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he blurts out, "I left you there. I left you on that ship."

"No, Cal" you say softly and you place a hand on his bearded cheek.

You've never blamed him. Not once.

Over the years, you've been unable to quash a secretly harboured shard of resentment towards the Jedi, despite your love for the Order you once called home, your family. As an adult, you started to find yourself doubting the morality and the wisdom of training young children to be weapons and sending them off to war.

Nowadays, for the most part, you are able to reconcile your loyalty to the Order with these criticisms, but the realisation that Cal still perceives what happened on the Venator as some kind of personal failing makes these feelings flare up within you all over again.

"No," you repeat and your tone is firmer now, "we were kids, Cal. We both did what we had to to survive in a situation we should never have had to face.”

Cal shakes his head and looks away.

“Do you ever dream of it? Of the Venator?” he asks, staring into the distance.

“All the time,” you answer truthfully and you smile sadly.

You are relieved to see that when Cal trains his gaze back onto your face, his expression, while still sombre, is less feverish.

"How did you escape?"

"I commandeered a shuttle," you explain, then smirk, "Crashed it, of course. Into a field on Pelka-4."

"That sounds like you," Cal quips, and you are glad when the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"I was lucky. A family of farmers found me. They kept me safe, hidden while I healed. I stayed with them for a few years until I managed to find a Rebel cell to join. Been sticking it to the Empire ever since."

You suddenly realise that neither of you have spoken about your lives after the purge until now. You don't know anything about the last ten years of Cal's existence.

"What about you?" You ask.

"Ended up on Bracca," Cal says and he lifts the sleeve of his shirt to display a tattoo on the underside of his right forearm.

It's a worker identification tag and you feel a surge of sympathy for him. Force what a hard life for a kid.

"Scrapper," he continues, "Until, one day, I used the Force to save a friend from a fall. He died anyway when the Inquisitors came for me."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too..." Cal rubs the back of his neck as he continues, "I was working with a team including another Jedi for a while. It's complicated, but we went our separate ways and I've been part of Saw Guerra's operation since."

"You're working for Saw Gerrera?"

"I'm working with Saw Gerrera."

You both look at each other and burst into laughter, knowing that the formidable Rebel warlord himself certainly wouldn't see it that way.

"What does Gerrera want with a Spori data archive?"

"He doesn't," Cal says, "but intel picked up a lot of Imperial activity in the area and I knew that's what they were after. I wanted to take it out the game before they could get to it."

You take the Spori data sphere out of your knapsack again and hold it out towards Cal in your open hand.

"What do we do with it now?"

Cal reaches out and closes your palm around the device.

"If you have somewhere safe for it," he says, his emerald gaze earnest, his voice low and sincere, "You get it there."

************************************

Cal doesn't need to wonder if he's made the right decision in suggesting you take custody of the Spori archive. He's not ready to visit Cere on Jedha, and Saw Gerrera's numerous bases of operations are constantly at risk of Imperial attack. Smaller cells, like yours, are easier to hide, easier to move. More than that, he trusts you completely to keep the sphere safe.

Even as a child, you were the most capable, determined, head-strong person he's ever met. Nothing's changed. You still make him laugh until he cries and he can't believe quite how much he's missed being relentlessly teased by you.

Having you near him again is enchanting. He feels drawn to you, like the invisible chord that has tied you together all of your lives has suddenly been pulled taut and you are being pulled inexorably towards each other.

Despite the circumstances you find yourselves in, Cal is happier with you down here in the dark with you than he's been in years.

And it really is dark down here. And damp. And cold. Squeezing through the Spori service tunnels which seem to be in more and more disrepair the further you go, it is as if there are unnamed things skittering about in the blackness.

Cal tries to put this down to the loose pebbles and stones you both kick up as you make your way through the ruined passageways, but he's not convinced.

He doesn't much like small spaces, but as you make progress down the increasingly narrowing passage in front of him, BD-1 on your shoulder lighting the way, Cal can feel your panic rising in the Force.

He suddenly remembers that you are severely claustrophobic and he scolds himself for forgetting. How could he not remember the night he sat up for hours holding your trembling hand in the Jedi Temple's med bay after your experience on Ilum.

Master Yoda had taken you and Cal with your peers to the ice planet for the ceremonial Gathering, the traditional rite of passage where young Padawans explore the great ice caves to source the kyber crystals with which to construct their lightsabers.

The ritual was always somewhat dangerous, but you'd had a particularly fraught time, falling down an ice crevasse and almost getting stuck between the tightly packed sheets of ice. You were forced to crawl and squeeze your way out in the dark all alone.

You were hours later than everybody else. Cal remembers how he came the closest he'd ever been to disobedient, sneaking away from the pack of Padawans and Master Yoda himself who were waiting by the transport ship outside the caves for your return.

Determined to try and find you himself, Cal made it halfway to the entrance unseen - or so he liked to think - when you finally emerged from the caves, hunched over and limping, but your kyber crystal firmly in hand.

The Jedi Council had been impressed with your perseverance and bravery, but Cal had never quite forgiven them for allowing you to suffer like that.

"This is only getting narrower, Cal," you say, jolting him out of his memories. He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, "Maybe we should go back."

BD-1 lets out a little boop which is almost a scoffing sound.

"It's ok for you, buddy," Cal reminds him patiently, "You're very small."

He hears the droid trill a bashful apology in your ear.

"That's ok, BD-1," you say and the genuine warmth in your voice makes Cal smile. You always had a weakness for cute droids, even when they were cheeky.

"Kriff," you swear softly in front of him as you come to a halt so abrupt he almost crashes into you.

In the dim light, Cal can see that part of the tunnel has collapsed. He watches as BD-1 hops off your back, and scurries into the small opening on the ground. Glad of something to do, the droid proudly scans the terrain and projects the way ahead. It's not blocked and it's not far, but it'll be tight. You'll have to crawl.

Cal places a hand on your shoulder and has to resist the urge to recoil as your fear arcs through the Force and passes through his own body so acutely that it feels like a bolt of electricity.

"I'll go first," he says.

The narrow corridor is barely wide enough for two people. You press yourself as flat as you can against the damp stone wall so that Cal can squeeze past. He raises his arms and rests his palms against the rock either side of your head for balance as he steps cautiously in between and around your feet and legs.

It's intimate, almost awkwardly so. Cal hopes you don't notice the blush he can feel creeping up his neck as he is forced to press his body into yours as he climbs over you. He looks down into your eyes as he passes, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin upwards in mock flirtation in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He is relieved when you giggle and jab him playfully in the ribs. He can't help but notice that your cheeks have turned a rather fetching shade of pink, no doubt mirroring his own, as BD's torch lamp passes over your face.

Something inside him glows as he realises you feel it too - the ember of something new between you smouldering into life as your shared past collides with the present.

But now, he needs to concentrate. Reluctantly, he brushes aside the giddy feeling you've awakened within him and he reaches into the Force. He inhales then exhales deeply, slowing his racing heart as he focuses on the task in hand. Then, following BD-1's lead, he crouches down and crawls head first into the gap in the stone work.

*************************************************

If your lungs didn't feel so constricted, so full of dust and musty, cloying air, you'd probably scream. When you'd squeezed yourself into the collapsed passageway after Cal, at first you'd been able to crawl on your hands and knees. That was almost tolerable but now... Now you are now flat on your stomach, making painstaking progress by clutching at the rough, stony ground in front of you with your fingers and pulling yourself along like some undead creature in a horror holo novel.

You try to ground yourself in the Force, but just like when you were a child, your panic has severed your connection to it, cut you off from it, leaving you adrift in the painful void of its absence.

Suddenly, you hear the scrabbling of Cal's body and boots against the ground ahead. Before you can register what's happening you are plummeted into darkness, BD-1's headlamp extinguishing without warning.

Oh Force, they've fallen down some crack in the ancient structure, plummeting into oblivion where the earth has swallowed them whole and now you're stuck here in the dark alone with no way forward and no chance of turning around...

The sharp, solid ice - no, this isn't Ilum - rock bites through your clothing, stony shards pressing into your body as your chest expands with your panicked breathing.

"Cal?" You gasp out, then, in a shout that's almost a scream, "Cal?!"

Abruptly, your eyes are assaulted with a white light so bright it dazzles you. You jump and hit your head painfully on the stone ceiling above you. A pair of hands, Cal's hands you realise, reach through the blinding light of BD's torch and you snatch at them wildly as if he might withdraw them and leave you there alone in the dark.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. With ease, he pulls you gently through the last little length of the tunnel and up onto your feet where you emerge gasping and wheezing as if you've been held under water.

You throw your arms around Cal's neck in relief, launching yourself at him with such force that he staggers backwards. Once he's regained his footing, he places a hand at the small of your back, drawing you close to him and cradles your head to his chest with the other. His heart beats out a sonorous, steady rhythm and resonates through your own body, slowing your breathing and calming your rattled nerves.

Funny, you always used to be the one to comfort him when you were children.

"I've got you," he whispers gently into your ear, "I've got you."

A passing thought that maybe you should be embarrassed for allowing your fear to overwhelm you like this is discarded almost immediately as Cal places a soft kiss gently on the top of your head.

A feeling of warmth rushes through you. You suddenly realise how safe you feel with him as you press into the warmth of his strong, solid body. You breathe in his old familiar smell which has a new, heady quality to it like clean leather mixed with the oddly pleasant scent of his physical exertions.

"Sorry..." you mumble, finally, into his chest, hoping he can't feel where your panicked tears have rolled unbidden down your cheeks and soaked into the fabric of his shirt, "I was thinking about..."

"Ilum," Cal finishes for you, "I know."

"You remember?" you say, pulling back to look at him.

He smiles kindly.

"I remember."

You shiver. Is it the memory of that icy planet that still chills your bones? No, you decide, it really is cold in here. Although, you realise, the air feels and smells different somehow. Fresher. Sweeter.

Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from Cal's arms and take a look around the Spori chamber you've just put yourself through hell to get to.

Except...you're not in a chamber at all. You're not even inside.

You look upwards and see stars twinkling above you, a million points of light in the darkness. Around you, the roofless, crumbling remains of the Spori Temple stretch raggedly into the inky sky like skeletal fingers.

You think back to when you'd studied the climate of planet and the geographical position of the Temple before setting off on your mission. The ancient structure would certainly be exposed to harsh winds on this northern side, especially in the formidable Spori winter. This part of the Temple has simply not weathered the ravages of time.

In the twilight, you take in the shadowy treeline of a great forest which lays across a meadow of high, fragrant grass which sways gently in the breeze. The tops of far away mountains are illuminated by the ethereal blue light of Spori's twin moons. The natural beauty of the place is magical.

You fill your lungs with beautiful, clean air. You can breathe again. You let out a joyful whoop, throwing your head back and laughing, stretching your hands up into the night sky and spinning round and round in the glorious open landscape.

When you finally stop, you notice that Cal is watching you with an expression of pure delight.

"We did it!" You say breathlessly, coming to rest in front of him and he laughs.

BD-1 hops from foot to foot in front of you, wanting to join in your celebration. You crouch down and scoop the little droid into a tight embrace where he purrs like a Loth cat. After a minute, he hops out of your arms and across to his usual spot on Cal's shoulder.

Cal's face is covered in dirt which runs in dark streaks down his cheeks where rivulets of sweat have trickled their path. You imagine you look similar. Automatically, you reach up and rub at the patch of grime caked above his left eyebrow with your thumb.

Cal brings his hand up to rest against yours as he leans into your touch. His expression is soft and there is a longing in his face so intense that he almost looks lost. You burn with a sudden yearning for him as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips.

Something chirps, breaking the spell. Cal reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small data pad.

"The Mantis can pick us up here in the morning," he says, inserting coordinates into the device and transmitting them to his crew, "We can drop you back wherever you need to be if you want a ride?"

Your heart sinks and you can tell by Cal's regretful expression that your face has fallen with it. In your euphoria, you'd almost forgotten that your reunion was probably only temporary.

Cal looks crestfallen by your reaction and you know he must realise that, however unintended, the abrupt shift in tone would have seemed callous to you. You can tell that he is searching for the words to repair the damage - he still has this need to say the right thing.

But it's too late.

"Sure," you reply, and you hate the coldness in your tone.

****************************************

Cal is lying on his side in the grass, somewhat sheltered in the corner of the part of the ruin you'd chosen for your camp. It's little more than a cluster of decaying stones, but it's better than nothing and it keeps the wind at bay. You've built a fire for warmth and placed yourselves at either side of it.

As Cal studies your peaceful face through the leaping, crackling flames, he smiles to himself. You look so beautiful to him, as you always had. Even on your worst days when your temper or your hard-headedness won out, he'd always likened you to a force of nature - a tempest or a forest fire. Something elemental.

The thought of going through another separation from you is unbearable. He curses his thoughtlessness earlier. He was certain that he had just about plucked up the courage to kiss you. Sensing your own feelings through the Force, he was almost sure that you wouldn't have rejected him and he'd certainly been willing to take that chance.

Wallowing in self-pity for this missed opportunity made it impossible to even think about sleep. If only that blasted device hadn't interrupted the moment.

And besides all that inner turmoil, Cal's teeth are chattering so loud in his skull that he's certain they could wake the dead, never mind himself. While softer than the solid rock that had been serving as his bedding recently, the turf beneath him is damp and the chill is seeping through his clothing and into his skin. He is so uncomfortable.

"Cal?"

Just as his eyelids start to droop, he hears you speak his name in a soft, sleepy voice. When he looks across at you, you are sitting up, the firelight dancing across the bright, glassy orbs of your eyes, your hair wild.

Force you look ethereal.

"Are you cold?" You ask.

"Freezing," Cal admits.

"Me too," you pause before saying in a hushed tone that makes Cal's stomach flip, "Come here."

He hesitates for a moment before he does as as he's bid, standing and making his way over to you. Wordlessly, you reach up to him and he takes you hand in his as you guide him to lie at your back and return to your position on your side. He feels a heady thrill when you press yourself into him as he curls his body around your smaller frame.

Cal laces one arm underneath you while the other wraps around your waist, holding you flush against him. You clasp the hand the hand that rests against your stomach in your own. Cal wonders if you can feel his heart slamming against his chest.

"I've missed you," he hears himself blurt out suddenly and he curses inwardly, feeling stupid.

But the temporary embarrassment fades quickly and is replaced by certainty and desire as you bring his hand up to your mouth and trace a trail of kisses across his knuckles with your soft lips.

"I can't lose you again," he continues ardently, "I can't."

Cal brushes a strand of stray hair away from your ear, as if that might allow you to heed his words more clearly.

"You won't," you say firmly, and a new sense of hope blooms inside him for the first time in a long time.

You twist towards him and onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up into his open, sincere face. Unable to resist any longer, Cal places a hand at the nape of your neck and draws you up into a deep, passionate kiss. His heart sings as your hands fly up to twist in his hair as you move your lips urgently against his.

As you embrace, Cal feels your familiar presence in the Force blossom with something new, something which glows incandescent like a beacon guiding him towards you and only you. Suddenly, every nerve in his body is on fire and, as you move together, he feels as if you are two flames blazing through the very heart of the Galaxy itself.

Only in his dreams did he ever imagine that he would see you again after that awful day on the Venator so long ago. Now, as you lie down together beneath the stars amid the mysterious ruins of the Spori Temple, Cal Kestis promises himself that whatever the future holds, he'll never let you go again.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fanfiction

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supremechancellorrex · 1 year

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I hear a lot of anti-Jedi and pro-Jedi going back and forth on this platform, but I wonder if we're only dealing in absolutes. That's it, everyone on tumblr is a Sith. Confirmed.

But, seriously (I was serious), are the Jedi good? Are they evil? Are they somewhere inbetween? And what is the system they support? Are they being their 'best selves' by the twilight years of the Republic? Am I a jerk? Are they jerks? Are you a jerk? Well... let's look at both sides and canon as it is, and see where it goes.

Should we ignore the problems and implications?

Dogma: "No! We have orders! We have to go through with this!"

First things first, let's start with negativity, because that's life possibly. There are a number of criticisms which are levelled against the Jedi in the canon. The Star Wars writers didn't always just put scenes and lines in for fun.

Slick: "It's the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved. We serve at your whim. We do your bidding. I just wanted something more."

The Jedi are accused of slavery in Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which was created by George Lucas as Executive Producer, along with Dave Filoni and a whole host of writers working in collaboration. When Slick accuses the Jedi of being his and other clones' slave masters, it is never refuted by any of the characters, even Obi-Wan and Anakin who he is speaking to. It's never refused by the narrative at all.

Canonically, the Jedi as citizens and being military generals act as the clones superiors and also masters by proxy in the command chain. Slick's accusation is that the Jedi "keep [his] brothers" enslaved, not that they even necessarily enslaved them in the first place. He is indicating that the Jedi have power and agency, which they do as natborn citizens, but they don't direct it for justice and meaningful change in regards to clone rights.

Satine Kryze: "I remember a time when Jedi were not Generals, but peacekeepers."

Now, people have argued that the Jedi do help the clones and they are "in charge of [the clones] care", as Master Shaak Ti says during a continuing arguement where her and Nala Se debated on who Tup, Fives and clones in general belonged to as "property". The Jedi could think themselves better caretakers of the clones troopers than natborn officers like Tarkin, although this verges on character speculation. Canonically, we do see evidence of care, such as Shaak Ti advocating for Domino Squad and calling them "living beings" that didn't deserve to be "cast aside", Mace and Plo Koon and other Jedi do show concern for their men's lives.

But, arguably it doesn't account for much when the Jedi are still working in the framework and structures of slavery instead of protesting it. Being kind to clones doesn't mean much when you prop up the meat-grinder of a system that uses them as cannon fodder.

This is exemplified in the show itself.

Ahsoka: "It's every citizen's duty to challenge their leaders, to keep them honest, and hold them accountable if they're not.”

Unjust actors and systems are to be challenged. The Jedi being nice isn't an absolution for their participation in this system, just as a slave master or a deputy slave master being nice in any context doesn't change the fact that they are still in command of slaves getting thrown into the meat grinder every day. If you support an unjust system, you bear responsibility.

And, moreover, despite moments of compassion from Jedi, for people who value life, the Jedi as an organisation still show a concerning ease with clone death as the war progresses. The Citadel Arc is a great example of this. As Clone Trooper Charger falls to his death and collides with a shock mine, Obi-Wan sasses "Well, they know we're here now" as the other clones still are reaching out in horror. Every time a clone dies on that mission, they leave them behind, even Echo (who turns out to still be alive and is captured by the enemy and tortured). However, despite the urgency of the mission, when Jedi Master Even Piell dies, the Jedi pause the mission to give him a funeral and burial even though the enemy is closing in. If there was ever a message that the Jedi value their slave soldiers' lives less, this is it.

Further evidence includes the fact that Jedi Master Pong Krell's casualty numbers were well-known in the military, to point Torrent Company were openly debating them, and yet no other Jedi General had felt the need to propose a military investigation. Additionally, when the Jedi were fed the cover story the inhibitor chips in their men's brain were just designed to make them less aggressive and more docile, there is no evidence they protested this mental violation. Another neglect in a series of many. Taking this into regard, I think the unfortunate implications are clear.

Perhaps the Jedi should find better use for their mind tricks and lightsabers than cutting up droids and planetary militias all while propping up an unjust regime?

Master enablers

Jedi Master Dooku: "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents."

Canonically, the Jedi are deeply flawed as an organisation. They are politically centrist in a way that does not benefit either themselves or the Republic in end, shown to be enablers that uphold the system and law as it is, regardless of how unjust.

How can the Jedi have the high ground when they appease a Senate that supports slavery regardless of how the writers try to downplay it? How can they be morally righteous when they bow down, without much resistance if at all, to such system that uses slave soldiers? Clones die under Jedi command, they work in the Jedi Temple as both soldiers and technicians. The Jedi claim they just can't get involved in changing the system because it's beyond their mandate when what's on their doorstep, what's in their temple, is slavery, slavery that they even benefit from arguably to even maintain their transports and technical systems.

For any person or group in any system, there's a breaking point where things have gone too far, but how much one tolerates up until that point says a lot about their moral character. The Jedi were drafted by the Chancellor (Oh you) and perhaps they thought being 'kind' to the clones when they interacted with them was enough, but it wasn't. And while the Jedi continue to believe in the Republic far beyond acceptable, victims mount.

During the Wrong Jedi Arc, the Jedi Order also show themselves in bad light. It would have been one thing to believe Ahsoka was guilty and leave it at that, yet they practically threw Ahsoka under the bus for politics in reality. Mace kept talking about the politics, essentially showing Jedi PR was a more important factor than Ahsoka's life.

Mace Windu: "I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan. But, if the council does as you suggest. It could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice."

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan advocated for Ahsoka briefly, expressing doubts at her guilt, but at best casts a vote in her favour when he knows it won't be enough. Give it to Anakin in this instance, at least he did an actual private investigate to prevent a wrongful conviction instead of sitting back. Like Asajj Ventress said when confronted by Anakin, the Order abandoned Ahsoka and appease a Senate that supports authoritarian policies, kangaroo court trials and a slave army. What a state to die for.

Ahsoka: “This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had, too, until I was reminded of what the Order means to people who truly need us.”

How can the Jedi believe in the Republic to the point they were surprised when they got inevitably screwed over? Again, the narrative supports the idea the Jedi have lost their way and become enforcers for the Senate, however fascist and dangerous it has clearly become. You kind of have to have in order to become key leaders of a slave army when you were peacekeepers beforehand. The Republic is failing, but so are the Jedi. They fight the war with the tools they are given, from their lightsabers to their slave soldiers, with no solution or appropriate concern for the legislative catastrophe happening at the heart of the Republic until they realise Palpatine's been in a little long with his executive powers. They enforce laws, unjust systems and follow orders.

Fives: "I'm sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they're wrong. Especially when lives are at stake."

Captain Rex: "You will if you support the system we fight for."

Fives: "I do support it. I do! But I am not just another number! None of us are!"

TCW shows us that following rules and regulations when they're immoral is the wrong course of action, yet no matter the signs and warning, the Jedi continue to play into Palpatine's hands with their misguided patriotism as the Republic becomes increasing draconian and despotic. The most problematic factor about the Jedi is that they don't acknowledge the problems and the fact the clones' situation is unacceptable on every ground. They don't acknowledge the clones' situation, they don't acknowledge the Republic is bad or try to think of solutions to that even if they don't work. The situation is complicated, but the Jedi went along with bad options when they should have known what the Republic was by this point. How can the Jedi enforce justice when they enforce the corruption of it?

The Jedi continue to believe in the Republic and their part in he hierarchy when it seems more akin to a hostage situation with slaves in the balance. If they're blind, they're fools. If they knew, they're knowing enablers.

A tight spot

Obi-Wan Kenobi: "For over a thousand generations, the Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the old Republic... before the dark times... before the empire."

Now, the flaws in the Jedi are clear, but it's all well and good to critique them. What could the Jedi have done effectively instead? If the Jedi were more keyed in on the Republic's unsalvageable system and decided to be proactive in regards to it, what could they do realistically? Aside from the emotional weight of getting people to abandon their home and a multi-generation relationship the stretches back centuries and centuries, the logistics of getting 10,000 people to desert and transporting them without the Republic and GAR noticing and stepping in feels unrealistic. Not only this, but they'd be ditching the clones to slavery yet again, as it's not like the Jedi can all desert and take the clones with them like they're plushie toys. Each clone is a different individual and deprogramming child soldiers is difficult.

People like Dogma, Neyo and Bacara wouldn't canonically desert without the right circumstances, Captain Rex wouldn't just desert with Anakin, nor could Obi-Wan sashay Commander Cody and his troops away like some of the fandom thinks. A lot of clones were indoctrinated to be loyal to the Republic from a young age. If the Jedi had just flat out tried desert, Order 66 would have likely happened earlier and Palpatine would have easily painted the Jedi as traitors.

Of course, there are the inhibitor chips as also a factor, but we can only judge the moral character of the Jedi based on the knowledge they did have and what they chose to do with it.

Barriss Offee: "An army fighting for the dark side. Fallen from the light we hold so dear. This Republic is failing. It's only a matter of time."

However, this is no excuse for the Jedi Order choosing the worst option out of a bad bunch. The Jedi crossed the moral precipice. They crossed it ever since AOTC when they decided that indoctrinated, slave soldier of dubious origin were just what they needed to throw into the desert meatgrinder that is Geonosis as the war started. There reasons make sense in their way, there's millions of units of droid army marching their way and the Republic and Senate have only a ten-thousand strong Jedi and the Judicial Forces. At the same time, the reasons for that humanitarian crisis aren't justifications. 'Cool motive. Still slavery' applies here.

Ethically, Yoda and Mace shouldn't have just gone along with the draft without any counter-strategy, especially if they cared about the clones as human beings and a people. They could have pretended cooperation and done discreet resistance at least. Of course, the Jedi even if they resisted weren't probably gonna have a happy ending, as generations under Republic thumb had neutered them and taken their passion and power, but they would have taken the moral and right action.

Instead, the Jedi remain the face of the war effort, using a Trojan Horse slave army just given to them with no real protest. If the Star Wars had truly wanted the Jedi to be wholly good, they'd have had them be more begrudging, cynical and weary at being pressured and coerced by the state. There'd be growing Anti-Republic sentiment, which would have been a start. Rebellion, dissent and mutiny would have been even more valuable and expected. Instead, the Jedi Order are loyal to the regime until the very last moments of the war.

In Conclusion

In the twilight years of the Republic, Palpatine really used every weakness of the Jedi against them. As an organisation, the Jedi really can't save themselves. Individuals can, as shown by Ahsoka leaving, but the Republic destroyed the Jedi, it took their soul, it bureaucratised and militarised their culture, and the Jedi just slid down that slope. That's part of why the people felt abandoned by the Jedi, as the Jedi were too melded to the system both functionally and idealistically, trapped in the snake, them and what they stood for slowly digested as they safeguarded and enforced unjust status quos. Even when Dooku was young, as The Tales of the Jedi said, they were already damned. Ahsoka left, every Jedi should have at that point. The Republic definitely would fight an en masse desertion, but it'd have been the right thing to do.

Some Jedi realised and left, others were too committed the belief of a Jedi Order that had become a shadow of what it was. The Jedi are a warning of what happens when governments, hierarchies and religion connect and influence each other for centuries. At the same time, adult Jedi were responsible for their actions, and each could have done more for the clones than they did.

Fives: "We must be trusted to make the right decision, especially when the orders we are given are wrong!"

#star wars #the jedi order #jedi #anti jedi #pro jedi #i try ok #individuals are lovely #the clones #clone troopers #clone rights #the clones deserve better #star wars tcw #the clone wars #arc trooper fives #ahsoka tano #barriss offee

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 6 months

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Poets and Painters (Late Afternoon) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss [and in this segment, more explicit conversation about death and what comes after], Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word-count: 5,342

Everyone will look a little sun-kissed by nightfall after spending all day basking in the light of Little Archossi's nearest star. It'll be easier to notice on some members of the crew with skin different than the deeper browns commonly found among the Clones. Hopefully people found and remembered to use sun protection this morning. (Or, the medics aboard the Triumphant have a lot of bacta gel in case people come back to the cruiser looking redder than the skies over Dathomir.)

You’ve been doing your best to prevent getting sunburned, others don’t give a single kark in the galaxy. Much like this particular Clone who’s lazing in the grass, fingers interlocked and tucked around the back of his head, one leg propped up in the air on the opposite knee as he sways and bobs his foot in time with some song stuck in his head that’s popular on the Holonet these days. Maker alive, you can only hope he won’t get sunburn, given that he's a spacer. (You're pretty sure he is, anyhow, given the uniform of a naval officer.)

"I wish we had more days like this… Don't you, Arcadia?"

Those who spend much of their time in space and under artificial lighting are loving this. Sun lamps can only do so much for keeping their overall mental well-being buoyed. For all the technological advancements in the galaxy, there are some few things there are still no shortcuts for.

You certainly don't disagree, but you need to finish passing out the rest of this crate you volunteered to distribute to people on this side of the clearing. This trooper lazing about in the grass is slowing you down, so you playfully roll your eyes, and fix him with your best look to show him you're not afraid to mean business if he doesn't sit up soon. "Maybe when the war's over, soldier. C'mon, take your ration so I don't lose my momentum. Commander Wolffe wouldn't be happy to hear if anyone goes hungry today."

No, he probably won't be, the trooper agrees with a kind chuckle. He sits up and takes the ration gratefully. "First thing I'll do is have a picnic, I think. When the war is over." The troopers and crew are - technically speaking - having a picnic right now, you point out with a bemused grin, handing off another individually wrapped ration bar to his neighbor. "I mean a proper one. With food, instead of rations! Something with flavor. Not colorless and loaded with bland preservatives."

"Beige is a color." you retort.

"Karkin' ugly one, sure."

You fix him with a teasing grin this time. "Are you pulling a prank on me by pretending to be Orchid? I can actually tell the men apart from one another, you know." A careful balancing act of patience and practice, to be sure, but the time spent observing everyone pays off for moments like these grateful smiles.

"You can? Then who's that over there, slinking out of the forest just a little off to the left?"

Yes, you definitely can, you promise the Clone trooper who's decided to be cheeky with you. And- perfect! You've got just one ration pack left in the box, and he doesn't have one in his hands, as far as you can tell. "Everything okay, Comet? Have you gotten a lunch ration yet?"

"Oh good, I would've hated to miss chow. Thank you, Arcadia. And yeah, everything's good; just well-hydrated."

You toss him the last ration pack from right where you are and tuck the box against your side now that it's empty. "Better that than being dehydrated. Enjoy your lunch, Comet."

"Where's your's?" He's sweet enough to worry and ask why you don't have any food for yourself, but it's unnecessary.

"I'll get one from another crate, don't worry, Comet." you assure him with a warm smile. You'll probably see him soon enough when he joins the small assembly on the hill under the red and yellow leafed tree with Sinker, Boost and the Commander. You imagine you'll be joined by Plo Koon as well.

But will you still get to address Wolffe like an equal in front of his sergeants when it’s no longer just the two of you? Or should you play it safe and return to addressing him as commander and sir rather than risk looking, acting, overly familiar?

"All finished, Arcadia?"

"Passed off the last in the box to Comet." you explain, sitting across from Commander Wolffe rather than next to him. His brothers have taken up their places beside him, leaving you no room to join. And that's fine; you already sat side by side with Wolffe for hours.

“Then that should be everyone. Here.” Rather than ask one of his brothers, Wolffe gives you one of the rations in the box settled behind him in the shade, sheltered from the sunlight. You take it gratefully from his hand. “Thank you, sir. Hopefully these aren’t too bad.” Always a bit of a gamble, ration bars… Some are pretty soft and crumbly while others are tough and chewy. The flavor is oftentimes fairly plain at best, or rather unpleasant if you’re unlucky in your choices of supplier. But a meal’s a meal.

As you’re chewing your first bite of the ration bar thoughtfully, trying to imagine who in their right mind would willingly scarf these down were it not for a war, the Commander politely clears his throat to get your attention.

“You’re still welcome to call me Wolffe, Arcadia.”

The slight warmth in your face has nothing to do with the sun above you; it's the six eyes trained on you and your every little move as you further shuck the wrapper encasing the foodstuffs. "Sorry, I… didn't want to assume it was still okay now that it's not just the two of us." you explain, nodding hello to Sinker and Boost in kind. (They return the gesture just as politely.) But if you're still invited to address him without his rank, or a respectful term, then you certainly will. It had just been better to play it safe.

"I see…" His eyes narrow here, and for a heartbeat, you think he's almost sort of glaring you down, but you realize he's squinting and looking behind you. "What is the General doing…?"

You turn and look.

Master Plo Koon is standing at the edge of the clearing, speaking with Comet, who's pointing deep into the trees. He's making animated hand gestures, and demonstrating the size and shape of something to the Jedi. Tall, and coming to a peak. And he's not having a lot of luck with properly conveying a few other things, as evident by the long, growing pauses and the Kel Dor softly shaking his head. Finally Comet gets a better idea, and is gesturing for the General to follow him.

"Arcadia, could I use one of the pages in your sketchbook? There's something I'm trying to figure out how to explain to the General. There's something in the forest, I think."

That gets Wolffe's attention.

You carefully tear one of the pages out by the perforated edge, and pluck one of the graphite pencils from your bag for him to borrow. The words something in the forest sounded a little urgent to you, and like the Jedi, you want to understand what's going on now. Like Wolffe, you want to determine if this thing is a threat.

Comet thanks you, and begins to send the pencil shwoop!-ing against the page without a moment of hesitation. He's gotten a good look, some of the shapes looked pretty organic to him, from what he could make out. Boost chuckles, trying to lighten the growing tension when Wolffe gets to his feet, and stands beside his brother, observing.

"Yeah, they're called trees, Comet; those are pretty damn organic."

Comet shakes his head firmly, his full lips pursed together in concentration as he quickly tries to sketch down what he saw. "No, it looked different. Like a sort of… hut built around a tree. But it was really far away, so I couldn't see it clearly." When he came back from doing his business out in the woods, he meant to inform the Commander and General what he saw; but you had stopped by with food, a momentary distraction.

What Comet thinks he saw was some kind of structure from the inhabitants of Little Archossi. "Perhaps I should investigate the structure and the surrounding area, to determine what it is that Comet saw... Commander Wolffe, remain here with the battalion, and be prepared for anything." Plo Koon offers, beginning to walk where he's been directed.

Wolffe bristles at the idea of General Plo volunteering to investigate the structure alone. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, General."

He is invited to stand down, asked to watch over his brothers and the crew once again. "Don't worry, Commander," the Kel Dor adds soothingly, laying a steady hand on the shoulder bell that bears the face of the wolf on the flint-gray armor, "I do not sense any threats or hear any warnings from the Force, for the time being."

"... very well, General." the man with the mark of a survivor agrees reluctantly.

Survivors get scars for their efforts, Arcadia. Skin-deep, scrawled in the deepest recesses of their minds… it doesn't matter. A scar is a scar. But the victims… the dead… they are lucky if they get a crude headstone in this war.

"I'll keep an eye on the men. Wait for your orders." Wolffe promises a little more firmly. And you, interrupting Boost and Sinker without intention, offer to help the Commander keep an eye on everyone this time. The look the three of you direct his way says, in a way impossible to mistake for anything else says you think you're doing this again, alone?

Somehow, we'll pass the time together.

According to the display in the upper right-hand corner of the datapad in your hand, the time is 14:30. You have another half-hour to go before it is 15:00, and have agreed with Sargeants Sinker and Boost that is when you should start to become concerned for the male Kel Dor's absence.

Jedi Master Plo Koon left to investigate the structure out in the forests of Little Archossi at 12:30 sharp, and he has not yet returned. But he has touched the comlink at least once, to inform his commander of his findings.

"The structure is a crude hut… One in desperate need of repair; time has not been kind to it in its occupant's absence. I sense it has been empty for a long, long time. I saw other, similar structures further still into the forest - I intend to investigate these as well. No trouble in the clearing still, I hope, Commander Wolffe?"

"No sir. Everything is fine." Wolffe had promised him, likely grateful that the Jedi could not see the tightness of his jaw, and the disapproving shake of his head. He still didn't (and still doesn't) like the idea of his general being so far from the safety of the clearing without company. 'Someone should have gone with him' has been uttered more than once to the three who have volunteered to split the load of monitoring the company and the edge of the surrounding forest.

"General, I-"

"Yes, Commander?"

Wolffe had shaken his head again, and changed his mind. "...I thought you would like to know Tack confirmed the blue flowers are in fact Dinocaeruleus anthos and has checked the credibility of the original findings. He and Arcadia believe it will still be best not to draw excessive attention to them."

You and Tack both had been praised and thanked for your diligent assessment and skills as a researcher respectively before the Force-wielder said he expected to return to the clearing by 15:00 at the earliest. If anything delayed him, he would be making contact once more.

The nearest star is no longer directly overhead, and the shadows are just beginning to lengthen and throw themselves further eastward. You distract yourself from your worries about the General's absence with something to read for a moment, something chosen at random. (You were "instructed" to take a break as part of some protocol (one you are partly suspect of being made up).)

You're not paying much attention to the Aurebesh on the screen, quite honestly.

You're more distracted by the Commander and his acts of quiet anxiety. Patrolling the circumference of the clearing once again, routinely stopping and watching in the direction of the dilapidated hut for any signs of the Jedi. Discreetly conferring with Sinker and Boost. And when they can convince him, he returns to either of the tallest grassy hills for a moment to stop and observe all of his men at once.

The time is now 14:35.

And your reading material is about as interesting as an instruction manual on how to polish and clean up a blaster without corroding the material or compromising its firepower. So you decide it's time to try something else from the reading material you have loaded up on the device.

It's labeled as one of the free holo-novels of the month, courtesy of the five-credits-a-standard-month subscription service that was recommended to you, a best-seller. But there's no synopsis or pitch of any kind that advertises what you'll find inside and why you should read it. It boasts a generic title (The Rush of Hyperspace) and pretty innocent cover artwork of an astro-map.

Curious, you select the best seller just as Orchid passes by behind you. The whispered words from over your shoulder chill the very blood in your veins.

"Psst, hey, Arcadia! You realize you're reading that in public, right?"

"What do you-?" your eyes flit to the very first sentence now that the screen has loaded in, and oh galaxy and all her stars. The very first sentence talks about how much this protagonist - a soldier - misses his girl, and the steering column is not the only thing he's throttling at the mere thought of her… the words 'a loud, sinful groan filling the cockpit' are practically seared into your retina.

Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!

You've never backed out of a story so fast, nor anxiously prayed that Orchid would keep his fucking trap shut. "I had no idea, I swear."

"One of those stealthy ones?"

"I don't know, Orchid. And keep your karking voice down." you warn him, removing the free story from your suggestions so you can't make the same mistake twice or be recommended more of the same thing in the future.

"Sorry. Was only trying to warn you that your screen was visible to everyone. What you do and don't read isn't my business, just like what I read isn't yours." Orchid replies with a casual, little shrug. "I ain't gonna tell anyone, Arcadia." he promises.

Your voice comes out in a low, threatening purr as you tell him you're going to keep him to his word. "They'll find you fertilizing the rest of the flowerbed if I find out you have, Orchid."

While the threat doesn't have quite the intended effect, you're grateful that Orchid is taking you seriously, in his own way… "Hah, I suppose that'd make for a fitting end. Name myself after a flower, get turned into flower-food when I die..." He smiles, finding humor in the threat while promising again that he really won't tell anyone.

"I hope I'll make really beautiful flowers when I die."

It's a little strange, almost unnerving to you, that the possibility of dying doesn't seem to phase him. That he's making jokes about it, almost. You suddenly feel worried about him. "Orchid-"

You're stopped with a single, apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. I know that all sounds pretty morbid, Arcadia. But I've made my peace with it and I don't bar myself from joking about it either, really. Now, I don't want to die, of course, but I'm not really afraid to, either."

You suppose that's fair, with some internal reasoning. "I guess that makes sense. Everyone has different thoughts about the inevitable end of a lifeform's conscious existence. What it means for them, to them. What happens to us after. Or, what we hope for, like…" you add with a nod to Orchid, "making beautiful flowers from… whatever's left."

There's a partial, amused chuckle from Commander Wolffe, who's recently returned to the hill following another perimeter sweep, and has been listening to you and Orchid for the last few moments. The time is now 14:50, according to a fleeting glance at the top of your datapad. "More of your philosophical ponderings, Arcadia?" And care to explain why you threatened to bury one of his men in a flowerbed, while you're at it?

(Thank the Maker he didn't hear what sort of novel Orchid had seen you open, at least. Something so raunchy it opened right into the act of self-pleasure and cultivation within the very first paragraphs.)

"Ah, y'know me, Commander," Orchid says dismissively, taking the heat off of you to explain away the situation, "just saying the usual banthashit that makes Soapsuds threaten to wash my mouth out. Arcadia got a little more creative than that, though!"

Commander Wolffe sighs, looking both surprised and unsurprised. Yes he certainly does 'say the usual banthashit', but to turn it into a discussion about death and what comes after, that's an unusual thing to follow up with. (Usually it's more lectures about discipline and reading the room.)

"Well, Arcadia has a knack for that."

Strange how only this morning, you and the commander were little more than perfect strangers, and by midday, you were calling the other by name in private. And now, here in the early afternoon, you had briefly shared lunch together, and still called each other by name, only now permitted - promised, even - to do so in the presence of others.

"Oh yeah, I saw the art," Orchid replies with a strangely wolfish grin, "good stuff. Looked like worship."

The words "The fuck do you mean by that?" find themselves clawing out of your throat before you stop and consider the tone, the snappy weight of them. Trying to cover your self-perceived blunder, you're now laughing nervously, tugging a hand through your hair in a harsh movement. "Maker alive there's something really weird about this planet, everyone's saying all this sage shit and acting so damn… strangely today!"

You've fooled Orchid. But you haven't fooled his commanding officer. Not entirely.

"Oh I just meant-"

"I would agree, Arcadia…" Wolffe begins with a thoughtful look as he regards a chrono for the time - now squarely 14:55 - and chews over something on his mind before speaking with brevity, "Today has been anything but normal. Strange planet. Strange plants and animals…" Strange lack of communication from his General, you figure he must want to say. This is a little out of character for the Force-wielder to behave in some of the ways he has today; by and large delaying the 104th battalion for most of a full day that could otherwise be spent traveling just for a day in the sun.

All for what? has been asked, secretly, over and over. By yourself. By the flint-gray Commander, of course. By Sinker and Boost, too.

Why are we here on Little Archossi? Where is Plo Koon?

And how will you keep a newly forged friendship of sorts from fizzling out after today? … Are you even friends? Have you misread your interactions of the day so far, believing there's something special? With you, for you?

You're not special.

You're just Arcadia.

Taking note of your silence, or perhaps a troubled expression, Orchid asks you what's wrong. "You look deep in thought. Something on your mind?"

"Just hoping General Plo returns or contacts us at 15:00 when he said we should likely hear from him." you offer after a shrug. It's true enough at least. Unless he's run into trouble, or has been delayed, there should be little reason that you would not see the Jedi as he concludes his search of the area beyond the decaying structure.

"Same here," Orchid replies, nodding to his Commander in a more respectful manner than he would when talking to Suds, "you too, I reckon, sir?" The singular, short exhale is Orchid's answer. "Oh, right, stupid question; of course you are, Commander." he offers almost apologetically, face darkening with embarrassment.

"I had to watch, helpless, inside that damaged escape pod, as my General and my brothers fought off those battle droids who were killing the survivors… Desperately trying to keep that distress beacon active, all because he had the hope someone would come for us."

You had finished adding some of the deep blue to the fluffy black curls of his hair that served as the highlights while Wolffe recounted for you, in more detail than what had been supplied by Tack, the Battle of Abregado.

And the way he was telling you, it seemed to suggest something to you. Something you could only guess at.

"Well… given that you're sitting here next to me, telling me this story, obviously General Plo was right. Did you…?" The words "not fully believe that at the time?" hang in the air between you, unspoken. He'll know. Smart and capable man that he is, the seasoned leader of the 104th battalion will figure you out.

"I wasn't sure." Wolffe admits with a grim expression, ripping up blades of grass by the fistful the longer he talks. "We were promised, pledged to, that we were not expendable to General Plo. Now perhaps General Skywalker and Commander Tano still would have come to scout the wreckage even if it wasn't for General Plo, because they seem to truly care for their men from the look of things… But we had no way of knowing at the time, for sure."

A tender hand is laid on his crossed leg, just for a moment, a silent offer of comfort for him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking in a hushed voice. "Given that I am sitting here, next to you as you said, Arcadia… ultimately, the General was right."

"I'm glad he was." you whisper back, just louder than the slow, smooth sweep of the coloring pencils in your hand against the page.

Stirring up such emotions to the surface will take a toll on him the longer you draw out the conversation, so you were sure to move on to something else. Something innocuous, something ordinary.

Does he ever play games to pass the time?

The chrono has barely ticked over to 15:00 when the Commander's comlink trills. A sound famous for being rather startling at times is for once one of the most wonderful sounds in all the galaxy: it promises that the Kel Dor is safe.

"There are more dwellings further from the decaying structure that Comet saw from the clearing. I believe I found one of the settlements, but I will be returning to the battalion instead of making contact."

"Why is that, General?" Commander Wolffe wonders, brow furrowed with confusion.

"I believe the inhabitants of Little Archossi are nocturnal… and should I wake them simply trying to make contact, I'm afraid I would appear to them as a threat instead." the Jedi explains haltingly, voice sort of rumbling down the mic and audio sensors. You wonder, with how cautious his tone is, if he is near the settlement right now as he speaks. "I will be back shortly… and will explain in more detail."

"Understood, sir." Commander Wolffe dismisses himself from the communication, just short of breathing a sigh of relief. The General is safe and will return in a timely manner, then. He can allow himself to loosen his guard.

Orchid is a little more crude in his relief as he thanks the Maker before excusing himself. Being soldiers, you rationalize that their language is going to be more colorful than most peoples', but Orchid… he's something else.

"How the fuck do you even spell that?" you wonder to yourself with a shake of your head, "And where does he find all these words?"

"It's best you don't ask." Wolffe cautions you. "Only inspires him to find more." The look he supplies you with suggests more than just speaking from experience. Don't encourage him. I don't need more headaches on the day we're meant to be relaxing, apparently.

"I'll be sure not to." you promise with a soft laugh and a teasing smile. "Best not to invite trouble in the General's absence."

Best not to invite trouble, or give the impression of it, at every available opportunity.

Wolffe, still as a sentinel beside you, greets the Kel Dor as he extracts himself from the forest and reenters the clearing. "Welcome back General."

You imagine you're being regarded with a great deal of confusion, an unexpected sight beside the Clone Commander. "...Arcadia, is something the matter?" To be greeted by his men is one thing, a normal and familiar occurrence, but this time one of the crew is present. Has something happened in his absence? Given your talents in risk assessment, have you found anything that would be a cause for concern?

"Just keeping him company," you explain, indicating Commander Wolffe beside you with a little gesture of your free hand, "while I sketch one of the Dinocaeruleus anthos flowers. For Tack." You felt you'd rested your wrist long enough when you made the offer to the researcher Clone, concerned for the device when he complained it was growing hot after hours without end in direct sunlight.

Offering to draw this strange little flower with blue silky petals, as accurately as you could to the best of your abilities, once again made for a pleasant distraction for the one-oh-fourth's battle-hardened leader. (He'll actually stay put so long as you're working on something, it appears.)

"That's very kind of you, Arcadia." Plo compliments you deservedly. "Making Tack a botanical illustration to reference at a future opportunity… Most helpful."

"Feeling rather spoiled." Tack chuckles agreeably. "An Arcadia artwork of my very own."

Stifling a sigh for the time being, you instead laugh softly and opt for teasing him in return. "Consider yourself lucky that I was bored and wanted to kill some time while waiting for General Plo to return. Can't expect these every time, Tack."

"Oh, I would never," Tack promises, "that'd be pretty karkin' entitled of me…" Swallowing his sudden nervousness, Tack recomposed himself after a beat. "It's good to see you've returned safely, General Plo."

The Kel Dor before the three of you dips his head in a gesture of polite agreement, mirroring the relief felt by the collective trio with gratitude of his own from the way his shoulders slacken ever so gently, and the time he takes to answer. "Thank you, Commander Wolffe and young Tack, both. I am relieved that no trouble found you all while I was away, and that I was able to return safely as well."

You don't need the use of the Force to sense the budding concern within the men to your left and right. "Oh? Did you run into trouble, General?" you ask, verbalizing the wonder shared by all.

With a simple shake, whatever fears swelling within you are abated, for the moment. "Not the sort you assume, no. There was something nearly troubling about the settlement when I came upon it; the stillness was unexpected. I presumed the inhabitants would be going about their lives up to my approach, expecting them to flee or fight if I made myself known, should I have made contact… But there was nothing. The entire place was still, deep in slumber."

And waking them up would have been unwise, Wolffe paraphrases the relayed message sent in earlier, connecting all pieces of the explanation. "Came back to avoid giving the impression of a threat in the event they found you."

General Plo nods before further adding he also sensed a strange presence in the Force in the settlement; he wants to wait closer to nightfall to potentially return, rather than leave. "I understand you must have your concerns, all of you… Especially yours, young Tack. But there was something strange… a flutter in the Force in that settlement that I cannot ignore."

His mere acknowledgement of the concern is a slight comfort for the moment. But why had Tack in particular been singled out? He had reacted the least between Commander Wolffe and yourself to the addressal of strange presences and the notion to remain on Little Archossi as night fell, rather than leave before the full setting of the sun as was originally planned.

The tight squeeze of the Commander's jaw had you concerned for the eventual ache to come following such an action; not to mention the sort of subconscious, nonverbal signals commonly associated with it were not entirely positive. Subtle insights to Wolffe's way of thinking.

The General wants to stay here past dark, now? A flutter in the Force could be anything, mean anything, or worse yet, nothing. Is the Force known for playing tricks on those it bestows its blessings, could this be a test? (But why would the General be tested here, now, on this likely uncharted planet untouched by war?)

Tack had given no such signs on the other hand, apart from now with the stammer in his voice. "G-General, I'm not certain what you mean…?"

Later, Plo Koon promises, he'll likely take the time to explain how he sensed the worries Tack has about this situation; for now, it appears he's getting a feel for the opinions of his commanding officer, Wolffe, and a member of the crew with training in risk analysis, you, first. "Are there any reasons you believe we need to consider that sway in favor of leaving before nightfall?"

Someone, between the two of you, gives a long-suffering sigh first.

"The safety of the Clones, and crew, sir." Short, to-the-point, and continual in his concern for his brothers, Commander Wolffe makes a rather obvious and deliberate point to communicate his reasoning.

And you did not miss the way his eyes, the brilliant silver and the rich vandyke, had raked you from head to toe as 'and crew' parted his lips. It wasn't a simple glance, or meeting your eye, but he eyed you up and down. (Why? Why had he done that?)

Since Wolffe has expressed concern for Master Plo's forces so succinctly, you opt to voice your concerns stirred up by the Kel Dor's observations he's reported back with.

"I'm not wild about the idea of looking like a threat to the people living on Little Archossi… There are so many of us. We had no real way of making contact before taking the gunships here this morning, and… I hate to make assumptions, but I have concerns we could vastly outnumber the inhabitants of the settlement and not know it. If I were them… I think I would be concerned about so many people suddenly showing up on my planet by the time I've woken up."

Two sides of the same credit, you and Commander Wolffe. In the end, the concern of overall safety, and the concern of appearing safe have been taken into account.

If he explains his findings to everyone else in the clearing, Plo Koon thinks inviting everyone to decide for themselves is the best option. It is officially the start of the late afternoon here on Little Archossi, and there is still time to plan for an encounter.

Those who wish to return to the Triumphant will leave before the sun begins to set.

With the will of the Force, and a healthy dosage of luck, any potential large-scale interaction between the soldiers of the Republic and the people on this forested planet will go off without a hitch.

Don't have a fic taglist form for the time being. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Here] [Evening] [Deep Night] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn part 2]

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smokeybrandreviews · 8 months

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God Mode

This is the last thing i'm going to post about episode five of Ahsoka, i promise. It just kind of f*cked my whole perception of the entire franchise, all the way up. Never mind the fact that the Jedi Council was legit grooming child soldiers to send them off to the front lines of a war over f*cking tariff disputes, or the fact that Maul got absolutely bodied by a whole ass teenager, there is a fully realized Anakin Skywalker just hanging out in the World Between Worlds. I'm not talking Clone Wars Anakin who got quadriplegic'd by old man Ben, or the hulking, cyborg, menace of an attack dog for the Galactic Empire, but a full potential Anakin Skywalker. An Anakin who has mastered the Force to the point he has transcended even the ability to project as a Force Ghost. An Ankin that somehow found his way into The World Between Worlds with no maps or clues. An Anakin fully at peace with who is, who he was, and who he can be. The truest version of The Chosen One legend, given form.

The quiet feats he demonstrated during that little training session with Ahsoka, were ridiculous. This wasn't a Force Ghost because he physically fought Ahsoka with a perfectly mastered Form Five. Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker was considered one of, if not the best, Jedi Duelist in history, and even that from couldn't master Form Five. This wasn't a memory because he referenced the sh*t Luke said to him during his duel, and inevitable defeat, on the Death Star II. “I won't fight you”, Ahsoka said. “I've heard that before”, Anankin replied. This was Grand Master Anakin Skywalker and he taught Ahsoka a real lesson, forcing her evolution into Ahsoka the goddamn White. During this process, he flitted between himself and his Vader form, like it was nothing. Light and Dark at the drop of a hat but, when Vader finally clashed with Ahsoka, it was Anakin's face he wore. I'm talking full power Darth Vader, without the cybernetic handicaps. Sh*t was glorious to see. He was vicious, brutal, but controlled. The anger was there but it was focused. This was Vader perfected but used for a purpose. This Vader was truly the Sith Lord he was under that armor, but lacked the self-loathing. This Vader was more a tool used to show Ahsoka that she, too, can fall. That it was a choice. That she could overcome even the greatest evil, ever, in her mind; Her fallen master, Darth Vader. But those are just glimpses of Anakin's power. This man literally reshaped The World Between Worlds on a whim.

Anakin motherf*cking Skywalker literally warped an entire reality, just to train his Padawan one last time. He took this adult Ahsoka, and reverted her back to a teenage form. He used her memories to, not only reshape the landscape, but draw in actual people she remembered as tangible representations from that time. F*cking Rex was in the Clone Wars flashback, man, in full Clone Trooper armor. Anakin did that through sheer Force of will. Do you have any idea how f*cking powerful in the Force you have to be to do something like that? Just getting to the World Between Worlds is a feat but Anakin can shape it like clay. Not even the Father, The Daughter, and The Son could do that sh*t and Anakin was shown to be stronger than all of them when he was still just a Jedi Knight. The only other entity that i think can come close to this level of power is Abeloth from Legends and she was a f*cking problem that Grand Master Luke Skywalker barely solved. I mean, this version of Anakin Skywalker physically pulled Ahsoka into The World Between Worlds right before she crashed into that sea. That, alone, is a big ass "The f*ck?"

What does Force Entity Anakin Skywalker mean for the rest of the franchise? This thing is bound by nothing, limited by nothing. He exists at the crossroads of all time, all reality. He can shape this core existance into anything he desires and carries a wisdom that only someone who has mastered the Force fully, can even begin to understand. In canon, that's just The Father, i think. In legends, that's just Luke, if I'm not mistaken. Like, he's stronger than the f*cking Whills, man. But, as broken as Anakin has become, that presents a problem for everything which comes after this episode. The sequels, specifically.

Grand Master Anakin Skywalker is the caretaker for the Star Wars version of a Hyperbolic Time Chamber. He is some sort of extra-physical representation of true Force balance. He can physically pull anyone he wants into this Room of Spirit and Time to train them. He literally gifted Ahsoka all the knowledge he possessed, leveling up her Force abilities like they were nothing, and she was already technically stronger than Obi-Wan before that point. Even Palpatine understood that Force Potential alone, was only a part of true strength. That man spent years of his life, studying under one of the most pragmatic Sith to ever live. This version of Anakin has access to so much more of that knowledge, plus his near infinite potential with the Force. That fleeting thought, on it's own, it's just staggering. If Anakin can do that much, if he is some limitless Force God now, how does he let Poppa Paps manipulate his grandson into being just another tool? How the f*ck does Anakin Skywalker, the man who sent the entire galaxy into a murderous, imperial, dark age over the death of his wife, let his own, personal, abuser, do the exact same sh*t to his grandson? How does he not intervene with Luke during his exile? How do these narratives even work anymore now that Grand Master Anakin Skywalker, Keeper of The World Between Worlds, exists?

#Anakin Skywalker #Darth Vader #Star Wars #Star Wars: Ahsoka #Ahsoka #Lucasfilm

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cienie-isengardu · 1 year

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The Funeral Rites of Clone Troopers

The psychological and spiritual preparations for death pre-war ☽⛌☾ What happens to the body of a dead clone trooper? ☽⛌☾ Conclusions

<<Warning: Although I’m gonna explore all available to me tie-in materials regardless of their “canon status”, I wish to emphasize that my main source of knowledge about clones, Clone Wars and aftermatch comes from the so-called “Legends” thus any chip-in-brain retcon will be keep to the minimum>>

☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽⛌☾❖☽

In May 2002, Attack of the Clones debuted and with this movie, the clone troopers became a vital part of the lore for good. For the last twenty years, source material provided us with glimpses of clone troopers’ life - from Kaminoan genetic modification and its effect on them, through the training on Kamino and the various battles to their personal relationships with brothers and non-cloned people. There are still plenty of things uncovered or not precisely said about clones, yes, but what was presented so far gives a well-detailed outline to work with. However, there is one aspect I wish to look closely at, namely broadly understood funeral rites, both in the sense of performed (or not) activities in relation to the body of the deceased soldier and the potential "religious" aspect.

The psychological and spiritual preparations for death pre-war.

Death is an inseparable part of life, more so for soldiers “bred for war”. Clone troopers were aware of this fact before the war even began - some died during the training while those considered “too defective” were taken by Kaminoans to never come back. Clone life, regardless if that was common trooper, commando or ARC, was hard and stressful and though Kaminoan education system was meant to prepare cadets for the reality of brutal fighting - and how little their existence meant in the grand scheme of things - it did not erase the fear of dying.

At some point every soldier needed to come to terms with the real possibility of his and his brothers’ death. The cadets did not have many options when it came to seeking comfort for there were only Kaminoans (their creators) and commando training sergeants to give them any input.

Kaminoans themselves were fairly emotionally detached and for most of their species, clones were nothing more than a product to sell. There were however individuals like Taun We and Glorii Profus who cared for clone troopers’ emotional stability as they recognized its importance in the process of creating well-balanced soldiers (and at least in the case of Taun We, also because she liked clones in her own way).

Interestingly, Taun We and Glorii Profus comforted clones with similar words of wisdom as could be seen in:

Star Wars The Essential Guide to Warfare by Jason Fry & Paul R. Urquhart

“Many Kaminoans treated the clones callously, but Taun We - the coordinator of the clone project that created the GAR - was kind to them, assuring them that their artificially accelerated lives would be sacrificed in service to a higher cause. “You will die, but the GAR goes on forever,” she told them and sometimes added a benediction of sorts, one that many a clone trooper would seek comfort in during his last moments. “From water you are born, in fire you die. Your bodies seed the stars”.

and Cestus Deception by Steven Barnes

"It is the proudest duty of a trooper to serve and seek a good death," said Glorii Profus, their Kaminoan mentop. The graceful, silver-skinned Profus was a combination psychiatric and spiritual adviser. Although clones never yielded to their fear, it would be wrong to think that they never experienced it. Emotion was as valuable as blasters and bombs, death an inevitable part of war itself. No trooper could, through any amount of skill or strength, avoid that unpleasant reality. And always, on all planets and through all times, soldiers had asked the same question: What if I die? And for a trooper, the most comforting answer was: You will die. But the GAR goes on forever. The Kaminoan gracefully arched his long silver neck and raised his cup, brimming with Tallian wine, the finest in the quadrant. His voice was cultured and comforting. "From water you are born. In fire you die. Your bodies seed the stars," he said, the ritual words that had comforted a million clones before they marched to their deaths, and might comfort a billion more. They raised their cups as one. "We seed the stars!" they said, together.

Though clone troopers were “schooled from even before awakening in their Kaminoan creche-schools to be ruthlessly pragmatic, materialistic, and completely impervious to superstition” [Revenge of the Sith novel by Matthew Stover], on Kamino they were allowed to seek psychological and emotional comfort in regard to matters of dying and some like Alpha-98/Nate apparently did. As the book passage says, mentop was a combination psychiatric and spiritual adviser.

This raises a question, did Kaminoans somehow share their own religious idea of the afterlife (like in mentioned "We seed the stars!" said together?) or did they create a whole new - or partially based on Mandalorian religion - belief system solely for the benefit of clones? Whatever the answer is, through this indoctrination, clones were given a seed of faith to rely on in time of dying or mourning the fallen brothers. As in - their death serves the greater purpose.

This is especially interesting in the context of the whole “education system” in which clone cadets were enrolled. Anyone could die at any given moment, either during exercises and live ammo training or be taken away from brothers without any warning by Kaminoans due to some genetic flaw and then, depending on how serious the flaw was, either get genetic therapy or be simply eliminated. Termination could happen to individual person to even the whole batch:

Niner had never known any blind people, but he had heard of a batch of clones whose eyesight wasn't 20/20 disappearing after their first exercise. Kaminoans were obsessive about quality control. [Hard Contact by Karen Traviss]

So on one hand, clone’s life was strictly controlled and their routine throughout organized, on another the environment in which clones grew up couldn’t provide a healthy emotional stability, as every cadet could either be killed during countless training sessions or disappear without any warning or trace. Thus clone troopers lived from day to day, many in fear of lurking danger in the shape of Kaminoan technicians. The uncertainty taught them to keep emotions at bay, to not display them to outsiders (Kaminoas) and to keep face balant as possible:

Niner’s gut almost tied itself in a complete knot now. It didn’t show on his face, he was sure of that, because clones learned in Tipoca City how to present a bland face to the Kaminoans. For the ordinary troopers, it saved them from being reconditioned. For commandos protected by their ferocious training sergeants, it was just a habit, but a useful one. [Imperial Commando: 501st by Karen Traviss]

Since various sources present clones showed grieving brothers sympathy and support so an act of mourning the dead itself doesn’t seem to be taboo among them. However survival instinct adapted during growing up on Kamino explains why clone troopers rarely talk about such raw feelings with non-cloned people, be it their officers or civilians. Because they learned to keep their emotions under control, whatever grief they had for brothers who didn’t make it to another day, stayed between them and was not something to share with outsiders.

The uncertainty of clone’s life created also individual rituals between cohorts - an individuality especially encouraged in commando and ARC cadets - such like ship-out ceremony in which part took mentioned Nate:

Only two hours remained. Nate and six of his brothers stood in a bricked, walled-off area outside the ribbed arch of the barracks, beneath Vandor-3's densely starred night sky, performing a cohort ship-out ceremony. Whenever a trooper headed off on assignment, his cohort wished him not only good luck, but good-bye. In the context of a trooper's life, this was more practicality than pessimism. If he did return, congratulations on a job well done. If he did not, well... what needed to be said had been said. [Cestus Deception]

Clone commandos had additional benefit of being trained by their naturally born sergeants and some, like Kal Skirata and Walon Vau taught them Mandalorian ways to honor fallen comrades:

Scorch could hear the mumbling rumble of low voices. It had a sort of rhythm to it. Yes, they were reciting a list. Now that he could hear, he caught sounds he recognized. Names. They were reciting names. Sev was the first to hesitate. He caught Scorch's elbow. "I don't think we should interrupt them, ner vod." Skirata turned slowly, lips still moving, and then Vau looked up. "You want to join in, ad'ike?" Vau said kindly, and he was not a kindly man. "Just commemorating brothers gone to the manda. You forgotten what day it is?" Scorch had although it should have been etched in his memory. Seven hundred and thirty-six days ago, all ten thousand Republic commandos had been deployed to Geonosis with the rest of the Grand Army at zero notice, a scramble to board ships that left no time for farewells to their training sergeants. Of the ten thousand men who shipped out, only five thousand had come back. Scorch felt like a fool. He knew what the two sergeants were doing now, and why: they were reciting the names of fallen clone commandos. It was a Mandalorian custom to honor dead loved ones and comrades by repeating their names daily. He wondered if they went through all those thousands every single day. [Republic Commando: Order 66 by Karen Traviss]

Since out of 100 instructors only 75 were Mandalorians, there is a chance some commandos adopted a different approach to taking care of the bodies of fallen brothers and rituals to honoring dead ones. Which could mean that at least commandos weren’t as homogeneous in that regard as outsiders may think.

Of course, losing a brother was a painful experience and clones weren’t immune to it. Through the various sources, we can with no doubt say that whatever was taught to them on Kamino did not erase the feeling of grief and hurt that comes with losing someone close. Yet death and its effect on common troopers and commandos was different in the sense, the first were socialized with each other on a greater scale than the latter, since commandos interacted mainly only with members of the same pod, members of the same batch and their training sergeants.

Clone troopers lost brothers in training. So did commandos. But troopers were socialized with whole sections, platoons, companies, even regiments, and that meant that even after the inevitable deaths and removals during live exercises, there were still plenty of people around you whom you knew well. Commandos worked solely with each other. [Hard Contact]

This implies that clone troopers had more people to share the burden of grief and to seek comfort with, while commandos were trained within smaller and more closely knit squads. At the same time, all clones in general weren’t that much open about sharing their personal feelings with outsiders, unless they were ordered to (for example, asked by superior officer) or came to trust and respect the non-cloned person.

There are plenty of things sources did not tell us about clones’ life on Kamino, but we know for sure that their training was deadly and some in fact died during exercise or were eliminated by Kaminoans due to unwanted genetic mutations, to erase the low quality of “product”.

next part: What happens to the body of a dead clone trooper?

#star wars #The Funeral Rites of Clone Troopers #clone troopers #in universe funeral rites #my analysis #sadly i needed to cut text in smaller parts #the next is going be more focused on the main subject i promise

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mandaloriandy · 1 year

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I posted 12,614 times in 2022

24 posts created (0%)

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Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-grey-hunt

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I tagged 7,179 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#dc - 881 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#tag theft: this whole section of the book really got mehe lived with these guys for…weeks? months? and they could all tell there was someth

My Top Posts in 2022:

WIP guessing game: star.

"Another mandalorian, bright like the stars. A soldier, one with a familiar face, who’s learned how to not yield. A Jedi padawan, one of the balance points. A would-be Sith, burning with the desire to be more."

5 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

WIP Ask Game

Rules: Post the titles of your current works in progress. If someone sends you an ask with one of those titles, explain the concept or post a snippet!

tagged by @willowcrowned sorry for waiting like a month to do this, my only excuse is brain bad

also most of these don’t have titles yet rip

Jedi Shmi AU (of course)

Sith Shmi AU

Tim Drake and Jason Todd alternate meeting AU

Tim Drake: Robin Exposed!

Serial Killer Tim Drake AU

Reverse Robins: Everyone Has A Bad Time (Except Dickie!)

Absolutely Deranged Dick Grayson AU

The Dragon Reborn Musical Chairs AU (secretly like five AUs in a trench coat)

tagging uhhh @viciousmaukeries @squirrelwrangler @lumateranlibrarian

5 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

was really excited to get back into the writing swing of things and then realized that the place I left off was not, in fact, in the middle of a scene, but in the middle of having to edit two scenes together, which I hate doing.

so rip that impulse

9 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Shmi Skywalker, Slick (Star Wars), Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Dooku (Star Wars), Qui-Gon Jinn, Bo-Katan Kryze, Beru Whitesun, Komari Vosa Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jedi Shmi Skywalker, Flashbacks, Interrogation, Secret Identities, Betrayal, Prophetic Dreams Series: Part 15 of Jedi Shmi AU Summary:

Death, yet the Force. Soon, everything will be revealed. What is the price of the truth? What is the cost of the lie?

Chapter 2 is up!

Two Mandalorians, two directions.

22 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

28. noceur & 29. selcouth; sith shmi and sith qui gon

noceur - one who stays up late

selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

(prompt list)

Qui-Gon finds her outside, late at night, the day before their plan will go into effect. He doesn't say anything like shouldn't you be sleeping or won't you be tired tomorrow morning because he's not a complete idiot, but he does have to ask – "What are you doing?"

Lady Searah hums. "Practicing. It's been over a decade since I could touch the Force well enough for something like this. The better a grip I can get tonight, the less I'll have to worry about tomorrow." Her eyes flash towards his, bright and burning in a way they hadn't been before he'd removed the binding keeping her from touching the Force. "Watch. You might find this interesting."

Oh, might I, Qui-Gon thinks, but holds his tongue. The Force has guided him here, to exactly the kind of teacher he'd wanted, and placed him in position to do her a favor. The message is clear enough.

Sand swirls around, carried by more than just the cold nighttime wind. It collects together, swirls and eddies, wrapping around the two of them like a netted kaleidoscope.

Because he can't help himself, Qui-Gon reaches out and touches–

And yanks his hand back, biting off a curse. Flecks of blood drip down from his fingers, before he grimaces and pulls out a cloth to wipe them on. "You could have warned me," he grumbles.

Lady Searah laughs. "I'd have to warn you every time you saw it, if I'd done that. But now you've learned a lesson, haven't you? Think before you touch. Anything can be deadly, if you use it right."

He glares at her. She's right, damn it. "And how will this be useful tomorrow? If we're robbing Gardulla's treasury, we'll want to be stealthy. Not leaving sandblasted corpses everywhere we go."

The sand in the air twists, reaches inwards, closer and closer to Qui-Gon. A small tendril curls its way towards his face, and he refuses to flinch away, feeds his rage and fury. He on the Dark Side and goes to push away the sand, but – there's nothing to push on, and the tiny particles escape his grasp, continue on, scratch the lightest brush against his cheek. Not even enough to draw blood.

"Fine control," Lady Searah says, and raises her eyebrows. "Which you'll need to practice quite a bit, before you can manage this trick. Tomorrow I'll be taking the lead on this infiltration. You will follow my orders, and if you feel the need to deviate from the plan, you'll explain your reasoning to me beforehand. Do you understand?"

Qui-Gon grits his teeth. He wants to protest, but the swirling sand around them... he wonders how she's doing it. She can't be managing each individual grain of sand, not with so many of them; yet the complexity of the patterns, the way it drifts together and apart, always in motion, has such strange elegance to it, like a flock of birds or a colliding galaxy.

"I understand," he says.

"Good," she says. "Now go get some sleep. You'll want to be well-rested for tomorrow, Apprentice."

37 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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smokeybrand · 8 months

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God Mode

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fulokis · 8 months

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Honest ahsoka thoughts warning it’s long and ranty and I may be using it as an excuse to not express some of the feelings that I have in personal life right not

I’m gonna be honest I never thought I would hate ahsoka as a character, like she was my favorite for the longest time. And yeah that started to change in high school because I related more to Ezra and Sabine while watching rebels as it came out and that makes sense because I was the same age. But she was still a cool character that I liked. But I can’t fucking stand her after rebels, even in the last season of rebels she’s iffy for me. And like yes I’m watching ahsoka but at this point it’s not for ahsoka it’s because I’m nostalgic for rebels (and imma be honest the actors they chose for Sabine and hera are not my favorite) and I’m a huge Thrawn fan. But like I’m terrified they’re gonna fuck up thrawns character more than they did in rebels (honestly heir to the empire with canon Thrawn seems not like something that would happen unless he was playing an angle like he was going to the empire in the first place (my opinion clearly most people aren’t necessarily going to agree with me.) ) at the very least they have Lars playing Thrawn which gives me a little hope it won’t be totally off the mark. But also a lot of the dialogue just isn’t well written, like I know the actors are just given it but it seems a lot like most of them just kinda stuck to the script and didn’t play around with it to make it work. (I say this having only been in a few productions in highschool but like we would play around with stuff and to me this feels like they’re at a table read) which honestly is a shame because the music? the loth cat? The droids? A good portions of the effects? Are all really well done to me and it hurts because this could be such a beautiful production but it’s falling short because the writing and the actors aren’t my favorite

And don’t get me wrong I am enjoying bits and pieces but if I truly enjoy a piece of media I will go back to it and re experience it again. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rewatched the clone wars, rebels, the prequels, rouge one. Or replayed swtor and Kotor and the battlefront campaign. I know I’ve read the Thrawn 2017 series at least three times in full and the separate books at different points. I’ve read the ascendency trilogy twice as well. Death troopers I’ve read three times at least, same with annihilation (which tbh is absolute crap but the point is it’s entertaining and I enjoyed it)

And that’s the thing I love Star Wars, Star Wars genuinely probably saved my life because I had something to look forward to despite my mental health being dogshit. And I can recognize that not all Star Wars is for me. And yeah it makes me sad especially when it involves characters that I love. Like the Revan book couldn’t read that shit, a new dawn I can’t ever get past the first 90 pages (yes this kills me and I don’t know why I can’t) and I think that’s what makes me upset the most is that as much as I loved ahsoka as a character it has been ruined for me, and I’m not sure I’ll ever enjoy her as a character ever again. Cause the thing with the other two is Revan is different for everyone and that’s because BioWare let you choose who you wanted to play as back in 2003. With a new dawn I don’t know why but it isn’t vastly different than the characters I love, it’s still them and I know it’s still very much them even if I personally can’t get through it. But with ahsoka its hard to explain but I can’t stand her since after rebels and it hurts.

And I understand characters develop as they grow, but I don’t see how she made the jump from being rebels season two ahsoka to this ahsoka we have now. There’s such a disconnect to me, I don’t know how to word it other than she seems like such a bitch now and there’s nothing to me that would have made her develop that way. Yeah there’s a war and trauma and shit but that doesn’t connect to the way she’s bitchy. Like sure I can see how some of it could be a trauma response. But not all of it, like geuinely I don’t understand how she would just not wish to tell Sabine about the potential to find Ezra at all. Like I’m sorry your dealing with your personal issues cause it sounds like y’all got into a fight but you honestly expect me to believe a character who typically was mediating between people so much when she was a fucking teen that she’s going to be some bitch who holds grudges and refuses to solve her own goddamn issues? Like I’m sorry but that seems like some backward character development and as far as we know there’s been no major developments whatsoever.

Also can I just say the choice to make Sabine her padawan is fucking weird. Like they never interacted much, if they wanted to pull that they should’ve left kanan alive and had him do it.

#long #my opinion #sorry it’s one am and my brain once again won’t shut the fuck up #I also like idk it kinda sucks to litterally be saying bitch at every other line that comes out of her mouth and it’s not even like #when I say bitch for characters like Lana because it fits and it works well #it doesn’t work well for ahsoka especially because it feels like they’re just making her anakin mini rather than having her be her own chara

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terzos-edibles · 3 years

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Silver Linings

1. Gotta Keep On, Keepin' On

Summary: No kid, no tribe, and avoiding his responsibilities, Din Djarin has gone back to bounty hunting and mercenary work under the watchful eye of Boba Fett. After a job on Ibaar goes very wrong in more ways than Din would like to count, he is forced to flee with a very peculiar New Republic doctor. He is determined to get enough credits and fuel to drop the doctor off on her home planet and be done with it. But will he be able to part ways with her after she finds all the right and wrong ways to push his buttons?

Words: 1.8k

Rated Mature: language, canonical violence, depression, mentions of suicidal behavior.

“I don't know if I'm scared of dying But I'm scared of living too fast, too slow Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go There’s no starting over No new beginnings time races on.” - My Silver Lining, First Aid Kit

Ibaar-

The fist of the Empire reached far, sweeping across the farthest reaches of the Galaxy; the deepest corners seemed to have felt its influences. Even the smallest, poorest planets had Stormtroopers deployed to them - a formality to further oppress the planets’ occupants and show their might - and dissuade any sort of rebellion from sparking. The destruction of the second Death Star and subsequent death of Emperor Palpatine at the hands of the Rebellion had shown that plan hadn’t, well, panned out. Still, in the five years or so after the fall of the Empire, the New Republic was just now starting to finally make its way into the Outer Rim Territories after ensuring that the more strategically essential planets were well taken care of. Remnants of the Empire still clung to those planets, holding out hope that the Empire would somehow revive itself and their loyalty would be rewarded. Many felt that the New Republic had abandoned them, that things hadn’t gotten any better since the Empire had fallen. It would be the same as it had always been. The Outer Rim would continue to be forgotten, continued to be terrorized by Remnant Stormtroopers, continued to be terrorized by pirates, and continued to be terrorized by gangsters. People had given up hope once again.

But, aid was coming. Slowly, but it was coming. New Republic troops were starting to make their way back out towards planets that needed them, bringing with them much-needed supplies and rations. Marshals were installed in the major cities and villages to help keep the peace and bring a sense of law to an otherwise lawless territory. Medical teams were dispatched to provide much-needed tautology assistance to planets that were unable to get the care they needed.

Doctor Gertrude Ásketill was the first in line to sign up for those peace operations. She was coming hot off of her time as a rebel medic. She was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and full of hope as they deployed her to the first assignment. She had an entire team - plenty of assistants and droids to ensure that everyone got the proper care they needed. They were able to start a proper clinic, train the locals, and establish a line to the core planets to ensure they could get all the medicine and vaccines they would need. Trudy felt good when she left that planet for the second.

The second planet saw fewer supplies and resources. She thought maybe it might have been a mistake. This planet had a bigger population than the last. Perhaps they didn't realize they needed to send more supplies, but then the third and fourth planets came. Supplies and resources were stripped as funding got cut, and slowly her team was redistributed to other projects.

And that left Trudy on the fifth planet - Ibaar.

It was just her and a few other doctors spread across the Outer Rim that was left of the program. She was sure that they would be recalled back to Chandrila - the capital of the Republic, but that had been almost a year ago. She had been on Ibaar for about as long. She was alone; at least, it felt that way. The only other two in her clinic with her was an older model R4-7 droid named A9-C that had been reprogrammed to help in the medical field. The humanoid-shaped, bug-eyed droid was built in the early days of the Empire and complained more than he assisted. The other was a teenager named Max, who had taken an interest in medicine. Whether it was because he liked Trudy or wanted to become a medic was to be answered. He was a good assistant and listened.

The only other Republic representative on Ibaar with Trudy was the Marshal: Baxley Morgan. How that man ever got the job of Republic Marshal was beyond her. It was probably why he ended up out here. He had a good heart, but the boy was dumb as a brick, and while she was no fighter - she could at least shoot a blaster well enough to hit whatever she was pointing at. It might not have been where she wanted it to go, but at least it’d hit its target.

The Empire had put blockades up to punish the Ibaarians for being sympathetic to the rebel cause. The aid that had been promised to the Ibaarians had finally come, and it was a little lackluster. The locals were friendly enough, but they felt a little betrayed. Trudy couldn’t blame them.

Trudy had become jaded herself; things were back to the status quo. There weren’t any more Imperial blockades, but with the lack of resources and supplies coming in - there might as well have been.

Ibaar, all-in-all, wasn’t a bad planet. It was a mountainous, temperate planet. The capital village, and the one that Trudy was in, was nestled in a valley - built into the side of the mountain while the rest of the land in the valley was used for farming. The natural cliffs that reached their stony fingertips to the sky provided a natural defense for the village, and the hundreds of waterfalls that cascaded down their sides gave the village and farms much-needed water. On a clear day, you could see for miles around. Though for all of Ibaar’s beauty, the weather was the worst. They could be lucky to see the sun one, maybe twice, per month. The rest of the month was plagued with overcast clouds, fog, daily rain, and nightly thunderstorms. It took some getting used to, and Trudy had ordered extra vitamins to help with the lack of sun.

Despite being the capital village of Ibaar, Laakso Village didn’t even have its own docking bay within the village’s boundaries, especially - making already scarce supplies harder to get. Luckily speeders made that journey a bit less complicated, though it was still rough going. A local warlord and his gang - a former Imperial commander and his troopers - had taken it upon themselves to decide that the Ibaarian Mountains were a great place to hide and run their smuggling business out of, using the old rebel tunnels from the war.

It made things dangerous.

Unsuspecting travelers going to and from the port or any of the other smaller villages in the mountains would be ambushed. Those lucky to survive had their property stolen. The bandits would look for anything from blasters, food, credits, various forms of technology they could get their hands on, and medical supplies. Trudy didn’t know how many villagers and travelers she had patched up in her time there, injured by ambushes. While the gang kept the locals terrified, they still hadn’t been bold enough to make their way into Laasko Village, choosing instead to raid the smaller outer villages - ones not protected by a marshal.

Baxley was having a hell of a time dealing with it himself and had brought up hiring some extra help. Trudy had nipped that in the bud; hiding behind hired mercenaries wasn’t going to do anyone any good - that he really needed to call in support from the Republic. The conversation tapered off after that, and the emergency seemed to have died down. However, as it always did, there was no downtime. The newest crisis cropped up - the report of the flu on a neighboring planet in the same system. A planet Ibaar happened to trade with. Which meant Trudy had to work to get vaccines to Ibaar before everyone was sick. She had ordered them about a month ago. Thank the stars someone was on her side, and the vaccines only took a month to get to her. Someone had made the shipment hastily, and they were currently waiting for someone to pick them up. Trudy couldn’t pull her boots on fast enough when the docking attendant called her to report they had been dropped off. Within fifteen minutes, she was in a speeder with a blaster and Max in the passenger seat. They would get there by nightfall - if they were lucky. Trudy just hoped to the stars above that nothing happened on their way.

----

It seemed as though Trudy’s silent prayers were answered. She pulled the speeder around to the docking bay and left it idling as Max hopped out of it, striding up to the attendant’s office and rapping his knuckles on the glass. He had grown like a sprout since Trudy had been there, now easily towering over her - though that wasn’t exactly hard to do. Brownish red shaggy hair constantly fell into his eyes, much to his mother’s dismay, and he was a lot less intimidating than he liked to think he was, especially with those freckles. Trudy waited as they exchanged words, waving a hand as the attendant poked his head out of his office and motioned to where the vaccines were - clearly annoyed he had been interrupted from his dinner and whatever wrestling match was on the holo. Trudy moved towards the vaccines, scanning them in with the datapad she pulled from her pack and happy to see that they didn’t have to quite rush back with them. Their cooling system had enough charge to allow them to rest a little bit - though they would still have to make the trip back by night. Max helped her load the crates into the back of the speeder and went out front to buy them both some roasted tip-yip and drinks from the food cart out front. Trudy turned around, eyeing the gunship docked in the bay the vaccines had been stored in. Annoyance twisted in her stomach that the valuable vaccines were stored where some random visitor to the planet could just poke through them. Though, the presence of the gunship made her raise an eyebrow. Not many ships like this made their way out here; either the owner was here for a quick refuel, or they were up to something no good. She scowled at it as Max returned with the tip-yip on a stick and a couple of cool bottles of water. “We didn’t get harassed today,” Max observed as he sat down on the roof of the speeder, and Trudy took a seat inside. “You think somethin’ is goin’ on?”

She nibbled at the meat on the stick and offered a shrug, turning to look back at the gunship. “Who knows. I just hope they keep whatever they’ve got going on out of the village. I want to sleep peacefully when we get back.”

You know the phrase famous last words? Those were Trudy’s.

--- Miles away, a Mandalorian clad in beskar armor was about to attempt to take down a stronghold of bandits and remnant stormtroopers all on his own. Maybe Fennec Shand was right. Maybe he was suicidal. ** Chapter 2: But I Ain't Dead Yet Taglist: @novemberrain221, @blackdogdesignuk, @mistyfur5, @thepoisonofgod

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x oc #boba fett #fennec shand #din djarin x female oc #oc characters #oc character #grogu #the mandalorian x female oc #let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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a-dorin · 3 years

Text

worry no more

pairing: captain rex x jedi!reader

word count: 945

warnings: some straying away from canon, mentions of war, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, mentions of violence, mentions of death

prompt: “i’m asking because i’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“you going to join us?”

the question is so quiet, so hushed, you barely hear it. turning your back, your brow furrows as you look to see who was behind you, posing such an inquiry. he’s a little more casual than a few hours ago, stripped of his armor on his upper half. black fabric clings to his torso, enhancing his muscular features.

“did you come up here to find me?” you chuckle softly, the trooper taking a few more steps to join your side.

“i didn’t want to leave ya behind,” he exhales, “we were gonna go for some drinks before the morning comes.”

the last few words of his statement are almost forced, as if he didn’t want to even speak of the topic. of course, it was quite the subject. a delicate, sensitive subject that sent a ripple of fear through your being.

in the morning, you were going to accompany ahsoka tano in one of the most grueling missions yet.

the siege of mandalore.

even the mere thought of such a battle was daunting enough. from the way obi-wan described the situation, it was not going to be any simple nor easy task. the powerful zabrak, fueled by rage and hatred, was a force to be reckoned with. he was a descendant of the sith, trained in the ways of darkness and shadows.

and you were going to aid ahsoka, in hopes of defeating him.

your mind reels at the image of the crimson being, how it was burned permanently in your memory.

stars, were you so utterly anxious.

terrified, even.

“hey,” rex murmurs, placing a hand on yours, “you’re not yourself. you haven’t been all day. we’re going to be alright. you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“i have so much to worry about,” you shake your head as you feel the sting of tears burning through your vision, “stars, this is going to be nothing like we’ve ever done before, rex. there’s going to be a lot of loss, and we have to realize that men are going to die out there. i could die by the hands of that sith. you could di--”

“none of that,” rex scolds, his tone tender, “we will win this. i can promise you that. ahsoka is one of the most skilled fighters i know. and you, you’re exceptional out there.”

“you really think so?” you look upwards, to meet his face.

two pools of warm honey are the first thing you take in, the way they’re glittering with admiration. his lips are stretched in a small grin, the type of reassuring smile that tells you everything is going to be okay. the lights of coruscant soften his features, giving him a more youthful glow than what you were accustomed to. the scoured lines of wrinkles were almost nonexistent, the wear and tear of battle completely erased.

your heart flutters as he dips his head, taking your hands into his. he intertwines your fingers, squeezing gently, “i really think so.”

“you’re not going to die on me out there, right?” your lower lip quivers, “i need you more than you know, rex.”

a laugh bubbles up in his throat, the smooth sound oh so sweet in your ears, “i could never leave my favorite general.”

“i’m your favorite general?” you arch a brow.

“since day one.”

the warmth bursting in his voice, the complete sincerity in his tone, sends you spiraling, knees buckling from underneath you.

“really?”

he shifts, glancing out at the buildings shrouding the balcony, following a speeder as it sails through the air, “i want to ask you something. i’ve been meaning to for a while, but never really got around to it.”

“so essentially,” you pause, “you want the answer before our lives are changed forever.”

his lips part in a wide, beaming grin, “perhaps.”

“why don’t you ask?”

he inhales a sharp breath, before focusing on you once more, “do you have feelings for me?”

in that moment, it was almost as if the world went still. the noise dissipated, the only sound the rush of blood as it pounds in your ears, heat flowing from your cheeks, down to your neck.

“rex, i um--”

he leans in, his voice faltering, as if he was just as taken aback as you were.

“i’m asking because i’ve seen the way you look at me. there’s something unspoken there, almost as if you harbor some sort of affection for me. we’ve been through a lot together, and i find myself thinking about you in the moments we’re apart. now, i’m not one to bother you or snoop around for answers, but i want to know. i want to know if you feel the same way i do. and i need to know if i need to protect you at all costs tomorrow.”

instinctively, your hand travels to his face, grasping his cheek. he melts under your touch, lashes fluttering.

“i do care about you, rex. more than my jedi comrades. more than anyone else in this universe. i just don’t want to lose you. with this war, nothing is promised. i don’t know if i can promise you a lifetime with me. if anything happens to you tomorrow, or even me, i--”

“all i want you to worry about is right now,” rex cuts in, “i’m right here, and i’m not leaving.”

“i know,” you whisper, “and i’m glad you’re here.”

“and cyar’ika?”

your breath hitches in your throat at the word of endearment.

“yes, rex?” the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“you don’t have to promise me a lifetime. every second with you is enough.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

taglists

thirty-one days of fics: @fandom-gal44 @dexthtoyounglings @xcertaindarkthingsx @idiotonanadventure @pinkwhorecrux @letitrainathousandflames @maiaofmischief @laorme34 @vinciwolf

some mutuals who love rex: @captainrexstan @starflyer-104 @hounding-around

#captain rex #rex #star wars #captain rex x reader #star wars x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars #rex fluff #captain rex fluff

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milfbenkenobi · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Fic Rec List Part 1

I’ve been looking for fic recs for Star Wars for so long, and I’ve finally folded and made my own!! All of these works will be complete, but I may rec a few that are part of an incomplete series.

Dust Ribbons by Deniigiq

First part of a 7 work complete series. Word count: 6876 Chapter count: 1

“So you’re not stealing my ship?” Mando said.

“What do I want with your ship?” Luke demanded.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually ask,” Mando said.

(Luke tries to help his student stay focused on his studies by helping his student's father. It's harder than it looks.)

Luke and Din get into Darksaber shenanigans post Mandolorian season 2. Both an amazing fic and series, and the author has a separate series based in the same universe for those like me who want even more.

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black runs the space between the stars by EssayOfThoughts

Word count: 1463 Chapter count: 1

It welcomes her when she twists her hand at her side as though to caress the great invisible shadow that follows her footsteps. She welcomes it as it nips at her ankles and guides her down this path and that until she finds new people to meet and new places to hide.

It sings in her head, too, strange songs no ear can hear, and the maids of the court think her strange as she tilts her head to follow the strange slow song that rings her round.

The Force is an eldrich power that sticks with Leia through her life.

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Second Hope by bornofstars

First work in a 2 work incomplete series Word count: 3812 Chapter count: 1

In his eagerness, the Padawan almost falls over himself, bursting into their chambers. Anakin and Obi-Wan share a look of confusion at the child’s sudden appearance.

“Apologies, Masters,” He says, panting for breath. “But I thought you should know - There’s a Sith in the Room of A Thousand Fountains.”

“I beg your pardon, Padawan?”

Sith Leia! Time travel! What more could you want?!!

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the dark of death, the light of life by EssayOfThoughts

Word count: 1679 Chapter count: 1

Padmé thinks she is not entirely Padmé any more. Her hands are light and shadow, her feet trail to nothingness. Her hair is long and dark as the stretch between stars, and is as speckled with them. When she swims by a sun, her hair fades off into wispy void, like wind or like ribbons of silk gone tattered at the ends.

She does not think she is a Force Ghost: the Force had never touched her in life, and she had felt it seep away from her with her life. Whatever she is now, recreated from the body left behind, the wound of her death, the purpose she had to save the Republic, to save her children, is something much else.

Padmé turns into a Force…. something and says hello to her children

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Soft Wars by Project0506

Series with 165 works, word count: 293338

This is a softer universe than the one you know.

In this space shall be gen, romance, hu

mor, family, all sorts of soft things. Mayhap in a time or two there will be a sprinkling of hurt or angst, but it shall only ever be a dusting to make the comfort all the sweeter.

You are safe here, my child, I swear it. No one wounds, no one dies.

Dear god. This series is so good. It’s the Clone Wars without any angst. There’s a happy ending and further. Don’t let the word count put you off, it’s all interconnected oneshots that can be read in any order. Super recommend for any clone wars fan

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Cold, Hard House of Gold by LovesFrogs

Word count: 9998 Chapter count: 3

Ahsoka didn't mean to activate her and Anakin's unfinished project early, but it just kind of happened. It shoots her off to... the Jedi Council? And is that Anakin sitting in one of those chairs?

Inspired by the aforementioned Soft Wars series. A dimension travel fic where Soft Wars Ashoka travels to the canon Clone Wars dimension, is horrified by how sad everyone is, fixes everything, and then goes home. Queen shit.

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Capacitance by Jessepinwheel

Word count: 8581 Chapter count: 1

"Oh, Cody," General Kenobi says softly, in a tone of voice that makes Cody cold with dread. "Since this war started, I have never not been in pain."

Or: The story where Obi-Wan takes on other people's pain because he's that kind of a person.

Exactly what it says in the summary

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How to Scrap Battledroids by meridianpony

Word count: 2758 Chapter count: 1

...basically Anakin and The Boys make a skillshare about how to scrap battledroids but about halfway through Tup makes a hair routine class, then other troopers post their hobbies and basically thats how they win the public over to support the clones.

Social media war as all the companies try to prove that their Jedi is the best Jedi ever while engaging in minor (ha) property damage

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Once I Called You Brother by redacted_thescribbler

Word count: 20060 Chapter count: 5/5

Rex can't leave his brothers alone to serve the Empire after Order 66, so he goes with them and pretends to be under the control of the chip so he can help them escape. Dealing with what's left of his brothers and his General turns out to be the hardest part.

Ooooooooh boy this one’s sad gang. Rex goes back and infiltrates the Empire to save as many clones as he can and may or may not bump into Darth Vader along the way

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These Things Happen by writehandman

Word count: 38369 Chapter count: 14

Obi-wan Kenobi keeps promoting Cody. The promotion gets out of hand, and suddenly the balance of the universe shifts into the palm of a very competent, caffeinated man.

Tfw you accidentally promote your bestie into a position higher than the High Chancellor and he accidentally ends the war.

————

PART TWO

Please reblog if you liked any of the fics on the list!!

#Star Wars #Star Wars fic recs #Star Wars fic rec #fic rec #mads recs #mads posts #I am on a road trip to Florida and so far I’ve made one rec list #I’m about to start another #TWO collections with my favorite dc and Star Wars fics in them respectively #and read like. so much fanfic #I have a problem methinks #update on the fic recs #I’m working on part six #METHINKS I HAVE A PROBLEM #(im posting them weekly)

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rise-above-the-grave · 4 years

Note

[smashes down door] who is Bail and why do you like him? I could look it up but I'd rather you gush over him

OH BOY.

So first off, a quick (canon) history lesson: Bail Organa was the Senator and Viceroy (aka Prince Consort) of Alderaan. If you don't know what that means (because old titles are Weird - I'm not judging the only reason I know this is because of this very character), it means that Breha, Bail's wife, is ruling Queen of Alderaan and was the heir to the throne. She married Bail, making him a ruler by marriage, though technically she still held the crown. He, at some point, was also elected Senator of Alderaan, and was Senator leading up to and during The Clone Wars (and after, but we're getting to that).

So Bail, we come to find out, became (best) friends with Padmé Amidala. We see him in a couple of scenes in Attack of the Clones with Padmé, just kinda vibing and making the occasional commentary. We know he stood with her on the Opposition bill (the bill Padmé was nearly killed over at the beginning of AOTC, which was against the formation of a Republic military), though we don't learn much about the rest of his politics until later.

So he's kinda...there, but obvs isn't the focus of the story, and is really just a minor background character. The first real insight we get into Bail is, actually, a really tiny character moment right at the end of AOTC, when Palpatine and some of the Senators are looking down at the Clone troops loading up onto the ship, watching their new military gear up for war.

Bail looks away. While everyone else is staring down at the (slave) army, some of them smiling (like Sheev), some of them just serious, Bail looks away from them and makes this tiny little hand gesture: a simple, closed fist knocking against the banister of the balcony.

It's this, I think, that first piqued my interest in this character. He was the only one not triumphant in that situation. He was the only one who saw things for what they were: a tragedy, and a horror, and that this wasn't something to celebrate but to mourn.

Then we come to Revenge of the Sith, and boy howdy. The man may have like 10 minutes of screen time, but does he make those 10 minutes count!

A quick bullet point of the Important Things Bail Does in ROTS:

When the Jedi Temple is burning, what does Bail do? He flies to it to figure out what's going on and see if he can save anyone. He then watches as a youngling is shot and killed by Clone Troopers, and manages to escape because he's a fucking badass.

Please note, to our knowledge, Bail is the only one who actually goes to check on the Jedi Temple.

As soon as he escapes the Temple, Bail immediately - like immediately - takes his ship and goes to find any surviving Jedi. He is almost certainly the reason both Yoda and Obi-Wan don't walk into the trap that is the Jedi Temple, or are captured - and even if that's not true, he most definitely is the reason they manage to sneak safely onto Coruscant and figure out what happened.

He's the one who rescues Yoda (again) after Yoda's failed duel with Palpatine in the Senate. Which, let me rant about the SYMBOLISM of that for a second please. Because holy shit, the entire duel between Yoda and Palpatine takes place in the Senate, with the Senate building and pods. Here Palpatine proves to Yoda that yes, he is the Senate, he controls it, the new Empire is under his control and no one can stop him. But then - but then - Yoda escapes, and who saves him? Bail. Bail sneaks in with a speeder, saves Yoda, and gets him back to safety. Which is such a huge fucking metaphor for the fact that Bail will be the one who, ultimately, is responsible for Palpatine's defeat. But, more on that later.

Bail is there when Padmé (remember, his best friend) gives birth to Luke and Leia. Bail is literally one of 3 sentients in the galaxy who canonically knows about both Luke and Leia.

Bail instantly offers to adopt one of the children, saying "She will be loved with us." (And then she absolutely is.)

And he does all of that in line 10 minutes of screen time.

He shows up again briefly in Star Wars Rebels, and again in Rogue One, but I'm going to take a trip down a side alley here into a territory that is grossly unused in the SW EU: the founding of the Rebellion.

So we don't actually know much about how the Rebellion got started. What we do know is that Bail was one of the (if not the main) Founders. Bail was the mastermind behind the Rebellion, by all accounts knowing...everything about it: who was who, who did what, where they were located, etc. He knows (and controls) Fulcrum in Rebels, as just one example, and Fulcrum is considered by that text to be one of the most powerful Rebel operatives at the time. In Rogue One (regardless of whether you liked what they did with the Rebellion which, side note, I did not), we see he certainly has a position of great authority and power. People respect him, and listen to him, and he's on an even footing with Mon Mothma (or Mom Mothma as my autocorrect tried to say) who is canonically one of the most powerful people in the Rebellion, according to ROTJ.

More than what he did, though, we can look to his character as a reason I love him. He is a good, kind, honorable man who does (or at least tries) his best. We see again and again, throughout all of SW media he's in, that he consistently chooses the right path, regardless of whether or not it's the easy one. He fights corruption, fights for justice, fights for freedom, fights against tyranny.

He is also, canonically, an amazing father and (according to EU content, since Breha literally doesn't have a spoken line in any media content) an incredible husband. We know he's well-loved by his people, and by the Rebellion, by the extraneous texts and mentions about him in the wake of his death on Alderaan. He's also respected by many Senators during his time in the Clone Wars (Padmé makes a comment in a TCW episode about how he's the best and most respected speaker and Senator she knows), and regardless of how people felt about him after the Rise of the Empire (which is, unfortunately - or fortunately maybe, because I don't trust Disney to do it right - up to headcanon), the fact remains that Bail played an incredibly tricky position as an Imperial Senator, having to balance fighting for his people, the people of the galaxy, and setting up the Rebellion, with not making himself too much of a nuisance, or too much of a traitor, that Palpatine straight up had him executed.

Which, speaking of that, can we also take a moment to appreciate the fact that Bail knew almost every single secret that Palpatine and Vader wanted??? He knew where Obi-Wan was, and possibly where Yoda was. He knew where both of Anakin and Padmé's children were. He knew everything about the fledgling Rebellion. Like...that man, had he been captured and interrogated (and had he broken) would have damned the entire galaxy. Yet he never was. He played his cards perfectly, and was either never suspected, or was able to somehow hide all of the information they wanted to know from being found. Personally, I suspect a mixture of the two.

Furthermore, Bail Organa is a great father and husband. He is directly responsible for Leia being the amazing woman we know and love. The one shot we get of Breha, you can practically see and feel the love and adoration Bail has for her radiating off of him through the screen. Literally the most unproblematic ship in Star Wars. I have never seen a single person say they aren't amazing (unless they just want to break them up to make Bail gay? Which, come on, bisexual and polyamorous people exist, y'all. But that's a talk for another time).

If you're still not convinced, the only thing left that I can say is: I'm a raging lesbian and like, while I definitely wouldn't fuck him, Bail/Jimmy Smits (his actor) is handsome. Have some pictures that I have saved on my phone for when I'm feeling sad.

Tl;dr: Bail Organa is singlehandedly responsible for putting into motion the events that secure the galaxy's freedom, not only by being one of the founding fathers of the Rebellion, but also by reaching Yoda and Obi-Wan before the new Empire can, and getting them safely to Coruscant. He is a good, kind, and noble man who does his best in shitty times, and even if he has to make hard choices, he always makes them for the right reasons. He is a loving father, husband, and ruler, who does right by his people and his family. He fights for what's right, even when that fight is nearly impossible. He's a badass, and arguably a literal genius (you'd have to be, to do the kinds of things he does in canon).

Anyway, Bail Organa is great and I love him - and you should too.

#bail organa #breha organa #leia organa #obi wan kenobi #yoda #padme amidala #sheev palpatine #anyway i love him lots #also for any lotr peeps who read this (or at least are reading the tags)#he's basically elrond in space

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supremechancellorrex · 1 year

Text

So, I've been thinking about the inhibitor chips and their value to the characters and the Star Wars canon narrative. I think there's always gonna be a lot of problems with the Prequel movies and every writer makes an attempt to make them work in their own way even if no matter what it's still a little broken. There's no perfect solution, but the chips are a better method than the alternatives and here's why.

The Plan

Palpatine has always had a master plan and the clones are still sentient, human beings. While we didn't get many scenes with the clones in the Prequel movies, RoTS had already set precedent on the clones' humanity. This is already shown when a clone pilot expresses genuine fear and panic in the opening battle sequence over Coruscant, to the point Anakin wants to "Help him out" and is only stopped by Obi-Wan. The narrative treats this clone trooper's subsequent death as bitter and tragic, and clearly something Anakin is not happy about. Another example of humanity is Cody's interactions with Obi-Wan, where banter and camaradarie is clearly shown.

Obi-Wan: "Just don't take too long."

Cody: "Come on! When have I ever let you down?"

Obi-Wan: "Very well. The burden is on me not to destroy all the droids before you arrive."

This small exchange and the acting establishes a number of things. Cody and Obi-Wan have known each other for a time, to the point Cody rebuffs Obi-Wan's jab in a informal, humoured way and misses off 'sir'. Obi-Wan is his superior officer yet they talk like friends. On Utapau, Cody even pauses mid-battle, notices Obi-Wan's lost his lightsaber, attaches it to a hook on his belt and hands it back to him. What the movie doesn't dwell on, but has always been canon, is the Clone Wars lasted years. And the Jedi generally weren't in the backlines watching, they're always shown leading the front with the men and deflecting blaster bolts from hitting them, that's war bonds right there. Yet, Cody gets a message from a cloaked man in a hood, a deformed face that barely looks like the Palps he knew and says "Yes, my Lord" even though that's never been the Chancellor's title in the movies before and the Empire hasn't been established yet.

Darth Sidious: "Execute Order 66."

Cody: "Yes, my Lord... Blast him!" (AT-TE fires, Obi-Wan goes skydiving off a cliff)

What thinking man does this? Never even considering if the hologram is a fake as part of some Separatist misinformation and hacking campaign to sew anarchy and sabotage in the Republic ranks? Everyone pauses mid battle with Separatist droids just to try to kill Obi-Wan. In the movie without any real explanation, the Order 66 plot twist just happens, and what little characterisation the clones have is stripped away so they become plot devices for Palpatine's master plan. Despite fighting beside their commanding officers, the Jedi, for years on the front lines, despite how Bly has a romantic relationship with his Jedi General Aayla Secura, they just shoot them all.

There's no hesitation, they do what the plot demands.

No Character is an Island

There's a lot of problems with all the clone troopers just immediately 'choosing' to turn on Jedi they've served for years and fought together with so closely with real war bonds. Namely, it makes the clones have no meaningful relationships at all despite being clearly still human beings whose brains react to stimuli and adapt. Outside of the Order 66 scenes, where the clones suddenly felt like different characters (like Post-Order 66 Cody unchill, cold and more aggressive manner), the clones were clearly established as sentient in the Prequel movies and able to gel with natborns naturally like any human character in their very brief scenes.

And, the Clone Wars builds on this precedent as it builds the bridge to RoTS. The Clone Wars explores the War in depth, making it feel an actual devastating conflict and not set dressing. Several seasons of barely-sentient clones fighting droids isn't really that interesting, but the 501st grappling with the desperate evolutionary need to survive, protect their brothers and comrades and their weak position and indoctrination getting them killed made the Umbara Arc with General Krell master television.

Fundamentally, relationships between characters give stories meaning. You can't actually do without them. If the clones just do stuff because someone told them to all the time no matter what, you just have pretty flat, uninteresting characters without creative thinking or loyalty, and that actually contradicts Attack of the Clones.

Why the Inhibitor Chips Work

In Attack of the Clones, the Kaminoans explain the clones are adaptable and can think creatively, making them superior to droids. The clones learn from experience and this basically means they can deviate from their baseline, it's just logical and cascading Information Theory at this point. If R2-D2 and other droids can become so loyal and rebellious despite being programmed, then clones, who brains are still based on millions of years human meat-putty evolution, present a real problem. This was made actually worse in the now clearly non-canon Legends content, where for all their justifications for a non-chip interpretration, for the sake of the story often Legends writers would habe clones choose to spare their Jedi, as their Jedi further fostered their ability of independent thinking. This ends up leading to more Jedi, quite powerful ones in fact, living in the Imperial Era in Legends.

This is a problem for Palpatine because Palpatine isn't all powerful. RoTs clearly show Mace Windu getting the best of him in a duel and he certainly would have got wrecked if Yoda and Mace tag-teamed him. The Rule of Two means the Sith have survived in the shadows but Palpatine is still vulnerable in his own way and outnumbered, which is why he has to be smart. He can't afford too many Jedi surviving. Palpatine solely relying on human meat putty clone brain, how engineered by the Kaminoans (another species he also looked down on), which can adapt and think creatively, feels like a hole in his master plan decades in the making. If clones CAN spare Jedi, if clones can decide whether or not to kill Jedi, including key ones, it puts the whole operation at risk for Palpatine.

Inhibitor chips solve a lot of these narrative issues. The chips are a 'quality assurance' measure that mainly seems to take apparent affect against clones that deviate from the baseline and varies on personality. Rex struggled in pain because Ahsoka was like a sister to him and he realised in shock Fives was right all along, while Cody lacked this understanding as well as a as strong familial relationship so he went with the flow after only a pause like he was rebooting. The chip also explained how the clone troopers knew to call Chancellor Palpatine 'My Lord' before the Empire actually formed. New orders, new directives, because of the reprogramming. Quality assurance, plans for plans, hedging bets, just like the Palpatine we know.

Meanwhile, guess in the Legends' alternate universe narrative Palpatine was just a really lucky idiot with how none of the number of Jedi the clones let live happened to be near at his crucial moment.

The Real Betrayal

Some people say the chips lessen the betrayal of the Jedi by the clones, but this is actually a non-starter. The real betrayal was always Palpatine, the Senators and citizens of the Republic just throwing the Jedi under the bus and creating an Empire. The clone troopers have no rights, are called 'property', and were just slave soldiers sent to be cannon fodder, and the Jedi, who are citizens of the Republic put in key military positions of power, technically allowed it. The clones didn't owe the Jedi Masters anything, so arguably their betrayal was never that cutting anyway unless people think slaves owe their 'superiors' loyalty. Plus, AOTC already stated the clones' free will had been messed with to an extent, so even if one prefers the story without the chips, still not a real betrayal either way because they've been mentally violated whatever the interpretation.

Additionally, I don't think it's a good look both thematically and narratively to villainise slaves, especially in this context.

Story Potential

There is an honest, heart-wrenching narrative reality in sentient, human beings being dehumanised and treated as disposable. That happens on this planet and is very relevant. Whether SW writers grasp the writing potential or not (as all things execution is hit or miss with Star Wars since forever), the chips have a lot of story potential while also fixing a plothole in Palpatine's plan since the clones have always been sentient. I've seen the chips explored in a fascinating way via fanfics with chilling questions of the mind and the extent of free will that leave you cold. With stories like the Siege of Mandalore and Umbara, the tragedy of the clones is Star Wars' finest hour.

#star wars #character writing #character analysis #order 66 #clone troopers #inhibitor chips #revenge of the sith #star wars tcw #the clones #jedi #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #palpatine #commander bly #aayla secura

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years

Text

On the Citadel and writing (Star Wars) essays.

I’ve just stumbled upon captures of clones deaths in the Citadel and Obi-Wan’s reactions (easily summed up by “we must keep moving”), and the op was using this as evidence of Obi-Wan dehumanizing them, and I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s making me so (irrationally) angry.

...

So yeah instead of ranting, I’ll attempt to direct my seething frustration into trying to organize a few thoughts on character analysis. Rule of thumb: text without context is pretext. Or in this case, picture without scene is probably bs. When using a particular frame as a piece of evidence supporting a take, you have to make sure you’re not excluding any surrounding material that could potential contradict that take, or else the analysis doesn’t hold. Quick example: using pictures of Yoda goofing around to test Luke’s patience as evidence that he is insane doesn’t work, because it’s revealed right after that he was playing an act.

This principle is to be broadened when analysing entire scenes or episodes. You can’t take them out of the wider narrative.

The post I was talking about continued on to say that this wasn’t the first or the last time that Obi-Wan was careless with the lives of his clones. Unless they were referring to RotS (which isn’t fair or intellectually honest because it was made long before anyone considered giving the clones identities and individual thinking), I don’t see that as being the case at all in canon material. Obi-Wan fights on the front lines. He takes the exact same amount of risk as his troops - he takes more risks even, as established as early as Christophsis (when he tells Rex to retreat with his men while he holds off the B2 super battle droids).

What the op was probably talking about was the many plans of his that result in clones dying (ex: on Geonosis with the zombie worms, many troopers die as they escape). Here’s what I meant about the wider narrative: TCW is about war. It’s about people dying, and it has to be so the audience can understand the horror of a full scale war. And since it’s still (supposed to be) a kid’s show, it has to be mostly faceless people dying.

I’m borrowing a quote from @trickytricky1‘s absolutely amazing vid ‘Your Body and Your Blade’, which compiles scenes of Jedi placing themselves between their clones and enemy fire: “We are shown a war, and in that show, to tell that story, they will kill the soldiers. They will kill the soldiers regardless of whether we think they should have been able to be saved. They will kill the soldiers to prove a point, to tug the heartstrings, to move the plot, to set the scene. But that is far from the only thing we are shown.”

So there, wider narrative. The clones dying in missions led by Obi-Wan don’t say much about Obi-Wan himself. And speaking of Obi-Wan, more on character analysis. Obi-Wan, according to Matthew Stover’s Lucas-approved RotS novelization, is “the ultimate Jedi,” Jedi being supposedly defined by their compassion.

Obi-Wan is the guy who cradles one of his worst enemy in his arms as he dies, the guy who knows like a billion languages and is always shown to be super respectful and/or knowledgeable of other beings’ cultures (the Twi’Leks whose homes he doesn’t want to destroy, the Zygerrian whose culture he uses to buy Anakin time to disable the bombs, the Geonosian Queen, telling the Gungans they live in symbiosis with the Naboo...) and the one who knows the names of the 501st troopers despite not being their general (see The Deserter). Obi-Wan is not presented as dismissive of people or things because he does not understand them, and he certainly is shown to value all sentient life above his own. That does not jibe with Obi-Wan dehumanizing the clones.

What we’re uncomfortable with might be the show itself not delving deeply enough into issues we as an audience can perceive because we have the benefit of omniscience and hindsight. Just as Yoda and Obi-Wan killing the clones in RotS does not inform their characters but the real life context of the movie’s creation, the same can be said of most problems with clone rights that we are indigned by. (Except in Krell’s case, or Tarkin’s - that’s what dehumanization looks like. And that’s what the show draws attention to, practically screaming “hey, look, these guys are evil for doing that!!!”)

To go back to the Citadel arc itself... Again, context. They’re in the middle of a highly time-sensitive mission, their failure could (as far as they know) mean complete defeat and the end of the Republic if the Separatist invade the Core worlds, and it’s more than probable that the clones who came along volunteered. (The ones we know are all high-ranking officers.)

With this in mind, Obi-Wan not taking the time to show grief (again with the context that Obi-Wan isn’t one to wear is emotions on his sleeve) says one thing about his character, and only one: he’s a damn leader. As Piell puts it, this is war. You act first, survive first, mourn second. It’s hard to swallow as the audience, because we love the clones and care for them and want other characters to show that they care too, but fan-service can make for poor writing and characterization.

(And by the way - Obi-Wan carries a clone on his back when they make their way down a cliff. He also personally assists most of the men up and down ledges, he gives out the warning about the blast doors closing... He’s trying to have everyone’s back. Pressing people to move isn’t being cold, it’s being cool-headed.)

To finish off, I’d like say that the “death of the author” principle is great when you’re writing school essays and want to show off (I should know, pretending that I’m smart and know stuff about literature is basically what I’m majoring in). But it can very easily lead to interpretations that - while valid to the degree that you’re entitled to make them and that they’ll probably always be defendable in some way - are not what you were meant to take away from the story. (Ex: the Empire was actually good, the Jedi deserved genocide, the Dark Side is freeing - go crazy, make defending these into fun rhetoric exercises, actually believe them if you want - but it’s still not what Lucas was trying to say.)

Here’s what JAT (Obi-Wan’s voice actor) had to say about the Citadel. (Borrowed from the amazing @gffa.)

“He has sympathy and heart for the clones, but at the same time he knows the mission.”

tldr: the Citadel isn’t an arc meant to highlight Obi-Wan’s flaws (if anything, it’s an Ahsoka arc, and an Anakin arc setting up his future interactions with Tarkin). The deaths we see him walk away from are mostly for shock value, to make us understand what how dire the situation is and to make Even Piell’s death believable when it comes (which in turn is to further Ahsoka’s arc).

So yeah, keep the author alive, try to make serious analysis in good faith and not based on your emotional reactions to character you cherish, but go crazy on the wildy AU headcanons and don’t let people spoil your fun.

#meta #on meta writing #double meta?#the citadel #obi-wan kenobi #i'll defend him till I die #clones #clone rights #star wars

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alderaani · 3 years

Text

Skies

summary: After a long campaign, Jesse and Hardcase indulge in some well earned TLC. AO3 | Series

Part of my 100-clone centric prompts series, prompt list used is here

wanrings: allusions to canon-typical violence, death mention.

a/n: oof, I’ve been so unmotivated to write recently, so i’m honestly just relieved to have finished something. i’ve been wanting to write this for ages, based off this post by @lilhawkeye3 - it’s such an endearing image.

The ocean didn’t smell anything like Hardcase thought it would.

He slipped his bucket from his head, squinting against the sudden rush of unfiltered light. On either side of him troopers broke free of the tree line, and, feeling sand beneath their boots, took off whooping towards the frothing crest of the sea. The sunset blazed red and orange, bleeding like a punctured egg yolk across the cloudless horizon and into distant water. Hardcase breathed in, wrinkling his nose against the salt-laden tang, so visceral he could taste it.

It wasn’t like Kamino. That was almost the biggest surprise. He’d thought that oceans would be the same everywhere, but this wasn’t a bad way to be proven wrong. It was the salt, he realised after a moment, darting his tongue out to touch his lips. There weren’t really any beaches on Kamino, though he supposed there must be sand under there somewhere. There were no winding strips where ocean met land, where the sun could ferment the pools, rocks and shells left behind. It tasted lighter there, cleaner, more cut through by its brutal winds. He breathed in deep again, wrinkling his nose and grinning at the way the seasoned tang sat on his palate here, briny and thick.

It was the colour too, that really made the difference. It was so pale and clear on this far-flung planet, instead of the angry greyish blue he remembered. The waves were...politer, somehow. Less vengeful, not boiling with ever-falling rain. Several troopers had reached the shore now and were chasing the surf, shouting and laughing when it nipped at their heels.

He decided he rather liked it.

It was something different after weeks spent cowering under cover further inland, coated in showers of dark earth from enemy artillery and rationing out stale water in mouthfuls that were barely enough to coat the back of the throat. Even the air was damp here, and overhead the gulls were crying, sharp against the thundering crash of the waves. He lived for these moments, these breaths between the axel-grind of war. It was true that he loved the spoil of a fight, loved sinking into it and letting his Z6 sing. But there was a different, more intoxicating thrill in these snatched hours or - if they were lucky - days. He’d never voiced it to anyone, but he sometimes thought he might like to do this all the time, one day, trawling the stars and standing beneath unfamiliar skies. For the views, this time, explored under his own rhythm.

Yeah. That sounded pretty good.

“Oi, Hardcase!” Someone bellowed, sticking up a hand and waving at him amidst a far away knot of troopers knee deep in the sea. “You coming?”

He shook himself, setting down his pack and his Z6 with loving care amongst the mountainous piles of gear, before jogging down the dunes, following the trails of discarded armour and the shouts, happy laughter and splashes echoing from the water. The wind was sharp on his face and neck and on the strips of skin at his wrists, intoxicating and too heady to ignore. The sand was strangely weightless beneath him, too. He’d slept on a real feather pillow, once, while they were hunkered down on Ord Sedra and several hundred crates of luxury bedding had gotten damaged in the crossfire. It had felt like floating, and all of them had tossed and turned all night. This was similar, and just as strange...what would it all feel like on his skin?

The thought wouldn’t let him go. Halfway down the beach he sat to strip off his boots, then his plates, then his blacks, until he stood in just his greys, laughing at the feeling of the wind and the spray licking against his body. The way it cut through the stubble sprouting on his scalp after far too long stuck in a bucket-locked zone was...disconcerting. The prickle of just-forming curls felt like phantom fingers on the nape of his neck, and he’d found the way sweat clung to hair under his helmet sort of disgusting - it reminded him of being an under-washed cadet. Frankly, he didn’t plan on letting it stay long enough to get used to it.

The sand though...now that was weird. The way it sat between his toes made him squirm, each grain a bolting pinprick against the soles of his feet. When had he last had his boots off? Back on the Venator in the communal fresher, probably. It was a cruel galaxy when that barren room and its clinical racks of scentless soap started to look like a king’s treasury. He dug his feet into the cold, wet sludge, shivering in disgusted delight as the beach swallowed them whole.

“Hardcase!”

He looked towards the bellowing figure stumbling up the sand towards him, squinting as the sun hit their upturned face. Then he barked a laugh of surprise at the edge of the Republic cog he found there.

“ Jesse? Kriff, vod, barely recognised you.”

It was the first time he’d seen his flesh face in weeks, aside from in hurried moments allocated for gulping down rations. Jesse’s hair had grown in thick and black, much to the consternation of several brothers who were offended he could grow a moustache like that and still chose not to. Right now, he reached up to scratch the offending hair on his cheeks and scowled.

“S’rich comin’ from you. What is that slug on your face?”

Hardcase winced. His own unwilling hair cultivation very much proved that clones were not all made equal.

“It’s a casualty,” he said, feeling the short, patchy bristles on his upper lip. His trainer had always promised it would settle as he came out of puberty. That had been a lie. Hardcase blamed it on the crack in his growth jar, like he did most minor physical inconveniences. “This is why I don’t bother with the stuff.”

Jesse nodded, turning away to rummage through the packs strewn over the sand. “It just won’t stop itchin’.”

“You’re telling me.” Hardcase groaned. “You didn’t get woken up last night because your hair tickled the back of your neck and made you think you were bein’ jumped.”

Jesse snorted, straightening back up with his meagre GAR-standard microfibre towel in hand and a ration bar hanging from his mouth.

“Was that what that was about?” he asked, voice muffled. “We thought we could hear you squirmin’.”

Hardcase kicked lightly at Jesse’s ankle. “Real nice of you to not even ask if I was alright.”

Jesse broke off the ration bar and smirked round his mouthful.

“‘Case, it’s when you go quiet that we start asking questions.”

Hardcase shoved him. Jesse went down with a yelp and a curse, his towel catching under his ass and the loose end flapping like a banner in the wind. Hardcase bellowed a laugh, kicking sand towards him. It was a fatal mistake.

Jesse caught him by the ankle and yanked him down too. He landed on his stomach, still laughing as the wind knocked out of him, and scrambled forward with abandon, yelping with shock as water seeped cold and heavy into his greys. He wasn’t fast enough. A leg slung heavy over Hardcase’s ankles, pinning him, and then Jesse’s weight was pressing down on his back, forcing his face towards the wet sand.

“Get off, you kriffin’ shabiir,” he laughed, groaning as Jesse adjusted his weight and squashed the air out of his lungs.

“I’m not the one startin’ fights they can’t finish,” Jesse retorted, his voice light.

“Who said I was finished?” Hardcase shot back, going limp and then bucking hard. Jesse swore, losing his grip, and then they were scrabbling again, a tangle of limbs and righteous yelling.

The fight ended with them lying side by side on their backs, both covered in muck. Hardcase was sure he had sand in his crotch. The sun was still blazing on the horizon, lower now, deepening from yellow to dark, hazy red. It gleamed like fire on the water, like copper on the sand. This world was so reluctant to let the light go, eking out the daylight drop by drop. An errant touch to his thigh made him look over. Jesse was rummaging around underneath himself, grumbling about something digging into his back.

“You think we’ll get to stay here long?” Hardcase asked eventually.

“Aw, hell,” Jesse said, pulling the squashed, sandy remains of his ration bar from underneath him. “This was my last flavoured one. What’d you say?”

“D’you think we’ll stay long?”

Jesse hummed, flinging the ration bar away up the beach. A gull immediately swooped down to snatch it. “Here? Don’t think so. Heard Rex talking to the General, lots still to do before we can get off this rock.”

Hardcase sighed, letting the disappointment wash over him quietly. He shut his eyes again, just listening for a moment, committing the sounds of the sea to memory. It wouldn’t be goodbye. He’d come back to this place, one day. He’d make sure of it.

“So,” he said, cutting himself off before the longing could get too strong. “We gonna shave or what?”

Jesse scoffed. “What? Now?”

Hardcase shrugged. “Why not? We leave here, we’re gonna be back on water rations, right? You really want that nest growin’ for however the fuck long?”

Jesse sighed. “Course I don’t. But what the hell’re we gonna shave with? You didn’t bring your razor, did you?”

“Not a chance,” Hardcase said. That was only a mistake shinies made.

It wasn’t so bad if you lost one of the Kamino issue ones - those were about as blunt as a butter knife. Better to grow hair on campaign and hack it off later than lose one you’d bartered. He still mourned the first he’d ever owned - he’d never seen another with the same quality Corellian steel, and Uppercut had been so smug to win it over sabaac. Gracious enough to let him keep using it though. Some of Hardcase’s best memories were in front of fresher mirrors with him, taking it in turns and helping catch any stray hairs, paying each other in gossip for their trouble. He still hadn’t forgiven that bastard for dying. The first time he’d had to shave after had left him curled over the sink, his head half lathered and his whole body shaking, so on their next planetfall he’d taken the razor with him and buried it in the nicest spot he could find.

Uppercut had always preferred cities to trees, but Hardcase hoped that, wherever he was, he’d appreciated the effort all the same.

“I do have a vibroblade, though,” he carried on brightly, grinning at the way Jesse’s expression fell.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on. It won’t be that bad.”

Jesse pushed up on his elbows, his face scrunched. “If you think I’m gonna let you dry shave my head with a dagger, ‘Case, you’re more stupid than you look. I want a haircut, not a cut head.”

Hardcase rolled his eyes. “Who said anything about dry shaving? I’ve got soap.”

Jesse paused. “You’ve had soap this whole time? Here?”

“What can I say, I’m an optimist,” Hardcase said, peeling his back out of the sand. “You in or not?”

Jesse didn’t answer, just stood, grinned, and offered Hardcase a hand.

The light continued to wane as they made their trips up and down the beach, finding a good spot where the shoreline banked a little, and where it would keep the worst of the wind off while Hardcase lathered Jesse’s head. He stuck his tongue out a little as he worked, trying not to get distracted while the frothy water lapped at his ankles. He felt himself loosen as he scraped the vibroblade over his brother’s head, even just the act making him feel more like himself. It relaxed the jittery edge his thoughts always had, dialling down the almost frantic noise that built in combat and then sat under his skin. Usually it took a good spar to bounce it all back out of him, but this had always worked too…it had just been a long time since he’d had anyone else to go through the ritual with.

When it was his turn, he all but melted under the gentle, smooth touch of the vibroblade on his head, the soapy lather chilling quickly on his skin. He hummed, the feeling of the pads of Jesse’s guiding fingers on his chin almost too much sensation after so long under plastoid. He let his mind drift, watching the ocean and listening to Jesse’s mutters and curses as he concentrated.

When they were done and had rinsed in the freezing water, the sun had almost vanished, leaving only a purple after-bruise on the darkened sky. Most of the battalion had settled much further up the beach near the largest sand dunes, so they drifted there and claimed a patch of sand, pulling on their blacks when the sticky film of drying salt water got too much in the cold night air. After a late meal of ration cubes, and, far more enticing, some dried bantha milk the last villages they’d fortified had gifted them, Hardcase was splayed out on his back again and feeling quite ready to have a nap.

Jesse was lounging beside him, carefully rehydrating his milk with water from his field flask. Hardcase couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a night like this, where the war had felt so far away.

They turned their heads at several loud hoots, a crash, and a cheer, followed by an angry bellow. He squinted his eyes against the sudden flare of bright light.

Several brothers had constructed a modest bonfire out of driftwood - and, Hardcase suspected, several unlucky clones’ blacks - and had just tossed over a spare fuel canister, setting the whole thing ablaze in a column of blue flame. The tense figure stalking towards them looked awfully like Appo.

“D’you think we should help him?” Hardcase murmured, his hands propped comfortably under his head. Plasma always burned fast and hot, and he could already feel it faintly against the side of his freshly exposed head. It was nice; soothing, even.

Jesse hummed, pushed up on one elbow so that he could sip at his drink.

“...Nah,” he said slowly, lowering his cup and scrubbing away the blue moustache left behind. He flopped back down with a boneless huff. “Appo’s a big boy. He’s got this.”

Hardcase turned his head again, in time to see Appo tug futilely at some of the dark fabric being swallowed by flame. He chuckled and shut his eyes, breathing in deep and enjoying the soothing melody of shouting that, for once, was not being directed at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a moment, sighing as the heat flared and there were more jubilant whoops. “I think you’re right.”

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @missinashkin @iscream4clones @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @808tsuika @eries45 @whatanoof // list here

#alderwrites #hardcase #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse #501st legion #star wars #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #jesse #time to hit post before i can decide i hate this loooool

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